The Faded Root
You are standing in the center of the vast, windowless archive room, where the air is thick with the dry, dusty scent of decaying paper and the faint, metallic tang of old ink, a smell that has long since permeated the very fibers of your clothing and the pores of your skin until it is indistinguishable from the breath in your own lungs. The year is 1924, and the institution, a sprawling...
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