The Faded Dust
The air in the Hall of Records was not merely stale; it was stratified, a geological layer of decades compressed into the silence of the room. Elias Thorne moved through the aisles with the quiet precision of a man who had long ago learned that noise was a form of weakness. He was a restorer, a craftsman of paper and binding, hired by the Ministry of Antiquities to preserve the ledgers of the...
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