The Distant Whispers

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2026-08-18 18:35:20 -

The clock in the antechamber did not tick. It hummed. A low, viscous thrum that vibrated in the teeth of those who stood within its reach. Julian held the ledger against his chest. It was heavy. Heavier than it had been that morning. The paper felt damp. The ink bled, though no water had touched it. He waited. The doors were mahogany. They stood open. Beyond them lay the Atrium of the High...

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