The Pale Protocol
The fog came in thin. It tasted of salt and iron. Elias stood by the window. He watched the water rise. It swallowed the street. It swallowed the cars. It swallowed the world he knew. He held the glass sphere. It was cold. It was heavy. It pulsed with a faint, blue light. Inside the glass, a storm raged. A tiny, perfect hurricane. He had found it in the ruins of the library. He had found it in...
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