The Pale Door
The fire started in the library. It was a small thing, a spark from the candle that had gutted the spine of the *Codex Aeterna*. Professor Elias Thorne watched the page curl. He did not scream. He did not run. He watched the yellow flame lick the ink. The ink was black. The paper was brown. The air smelled of burnt sugar and old dust. Elias was a man of books. He was a man of silence. He had...
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