The Faded Dust
The morning light enters the archive room not as a blessing but as an accusation, slicing through the heavy velvet drapes to lay a pale, sterile band across the oak floorboards where you have spent the last forty years of your life cataloging the silence of dead men. You are Dr. Elias Thorne, a man whose spine has long since curved into the shape of the question marks he has been tasked to...
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