The Wistful Ashes
The rain lashed against the reinforced glass of the Sector Four archive, a rhythmic, violent drumming that matched the frantic pounding of my own heart as I huddled beneath the low, humming ceiling of the restricted sub-basement. I was not alone in this damp, sterile purgatory of paper and plastic; the silence of the upper levels was a lie, a curated illusion of order maintained by the Bureau...
0 Commentaires 0 Parts 1 Vue 0 Aperçu