The Faded Photograph
The rain lashed against the high, stained-glass windows of the Department of Internal Affairs, a relentless, rhythmic drumming that seemed to count down the seconds of a life already spent in the gray, bureaucratic twilight of the late nineteenth century. Elias Thorne stood by the mahogany desk, his uniform pressed to a severe, military precision that belied the tremor in his hands, holding an...
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