The Faded Root

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2026-08-17 19:13:14 -

The Faded Root

"You are late, Mr. Holloway." The voice came from the shadows of the grand hall. It was not a voice. It was a pressure in the air, a sudden drop in temperature that made my breath visible. I stood in the doorway of the Ministry of Temporal Affairs. The room was vast. High ceilings. Dust motes dancing in beams of pale, artificial light. The walls were lined with clocks. Thousands of them. All...

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