The Pale Tale
The collapse of the perimeter wall was not an explosion, but a sigh, a long, grinding exhalation of concrete and rebar that turned the air into a suspension of gray dust and the metallic taste of old blood. Elias Thorne did not flinch. As a senior structural integrity officer for the Bureau of Metaphysical Containment, he had spent thirty years watching things fail, and he knew the specific...
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