The Faded Apartment
The fire did not roar; it whispered, a dry, papery exhalation that turned the world into a negative image of itself. Elias Thorne stood on the cobblestones of the High Street, his hands still wrapped in the soot-stained leather of his gauntlets, watching the skeletal remains of the Archive Hall collapse inward. The heat was a physical weight, a heavy blanket that pressed against his lungs,...
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