The Pale Protocol
The letters arrived on sheets of paper so thin it seemed a strong wind might dissolve them into mist before the ink had fully set. Elara Vane sat in the center of the circular hall, her back against the cold stone of the pillar that held up the sky, which was not a sky but a vast, suspended canopy of dark water, dripping with a rhythm that sounded like distant clocks. Around her, the banquet...
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