The Wistful Skyline
The ink on the document was still wet, a dark, viscous trail that seemed to pulse in the sterile light of the archive. “You are aware of the implications,” said Silas. He did not look at you. His gaze was fixed on the window, where the city sprawled in a grid of gray and glass, indifferent to the weight of the words you held in your trembling hands. “The Meridian Protocol does not merely...
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