The Golden Farce
The fire did not start with a spark, but with a silence so profound it felt like a physical weight pressing against my eardrums. I stood in the center of the atrium of the Blackwood Institute, a cathedral of glass and steel that had once housed the world’s most prestigious archives of forbidden knowledge. Now, it was a tomb. The air smelled of ozone and scorched paper, a sweet, cloying scent...
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