The Faded Ruin
The dust is alive. It swirls in the shafts of pale, winter light that cut through the high, broken windows of the Archive. You watch it dance. You are not afraid. Fear is a luxury for those who have not yet seen the end of the line. Your name is Dr. Elias Thorne. You are the Head Archivist. You are old. Your knees ache with the damp cold of the building. The building is dying. The roof leaks....
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