The Faded Ruin
The iron gate of the Millhaven Penitentiary did not creak. It groaned. The sound was a low, tectonic shift in the earth, a warning that the structure was not merely old but dying. Elias Thorne stood before it, his hand resting on the cold steel. He was a man of the Bureau, a keeper of the Ledger, a man whose life was measured in the precise weight of ink and the heavy silence of compliance. He...
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