The Pale Protocol
The house stood in the valley like a broken tooth. Margaret sat in the study. The air was thick. Dust motes danced in the beam of light. She held a pen. Her hand shook. "Is it done?" she whispered. No answer. Only the clock. Tick. Tick. Tick. The walls were lined with books. Leather bindings. Spines cracked with age. But the books were empty. Pages blank. White voids. Margaret looked at the...
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