The Pale Echo
"You look like a ghost," Elias said. He didn't look up from the ledger. His pen scratched against the paper, a dry, rhythmic sound that filled the silence of the room. "Or worse. You look like you know something." I wanted to answer. My mouth was full of dust and iron. The taste was familiar, metallic and old, like biting down on a copper penny. But my throat had closed up. I was the prisoner...
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