The Pale Letter
The stone walls of the Citadel did not breathe, yet I felt them watching. They were thick, older than my lineage, older than the name I bore. They were the architecture of a silence that had endured for centuries. I am Thomas Bradshaw, and I have spent my life in the service of the Archive, a keeper of dust and dead words. My position is humble. I am a subordinate, a shadow to the light of the...
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