The Faded Frontier
The air in the Archive tasted of ozone and old paper. It was a dry, sharp flavor that coated the back of the throat. Thomas Bradshaw stood before the Glass Wall. It separated his side from the Void. The Void was not empty. It shimmered with a low, violet hum. He adjusted his spectacles. The lenses were thick, ground from a mineral that no longer existed in the natural world. He was a Custodian....
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