The Faded Ruin
The air in the Grand Atrium of the Ministry of Continuity was not merely cool, but aggressively, surgically cold, a temperature that seemed designed to preserve not just the bodies of the elite but the very concept of their superiority, a crispness that settled into the marrow of Cassian Thorne’s bones as he stood at the periphery of the gilded hall, his eyes fixed on the shimmering, iridescent...
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