The Pale Mist
The seal is a simple thing. A circle of indelible ink on the inside of your left wrist, pale as a scar that refuses to fade. It is the mark of the Department of Archival Integrity, stamped into your skin during the final week of your induction at the Whitmore Institute. You remember the cold needle, the sting, and the quiet voice of the registrar saying, *This is your tether. It keeps the...
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