The Wistful Witness

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2026-08-20 00:37:07 -

The smell of burnt sugar and wet wool was the first thing to break the surface of his dream, a thick, cloying veil that hung in the air of the Grand Hall of the Department of National Security, a place where silence was not an absence of sound but a heavy, physical weight that pressed against the eardrums and the ribs. Elias Thorne stood in the center of the marble floor, his uniform...

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