The Wistful Ashes
The air in Sector Four smelled of wet chalk and old copper, a scent that had seeped into the very pores of the concrete walls until breathing felt like drinking the building itself. Margaret Holloway stood in the center of the interrogation room, her hands trembling not from fear, but from the sheer, crushing weight of the silence that had just been broken. Across the steel table, Officer Kael...
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