The Pale Fracture
The building did not explode. It sighed. That was the first thing you would remember, years later, when the memory had settled into the marrow like cold iron. There was no fire, no shrapnel tearing through the atrium, no chaotic scramble for the exits. There was only a deep, structural groan that traveled up from the foundation of the Ministry of Continuity, shaking the dust from the high,...
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