The Distant Whispers
The dream began with the sound of grinding gears, a low, tectonic rumble that vibrated in the hollows of Edric’s teeth. He stood in the great rotunda of the Ministry of Internal Order, a space so vast and cold that his breath did not fog, but seemed to freeze instantly into tiny, sharp crystals that drifted down like ash. The walls were lined with the archives of the state, towering stacks of...
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