The Pale Letter

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2026-08-20 15:09:57 -

The Pale Letter

The dream always began with the sound of the turbine spinning down, a high-pitched whine that faded into a low, rhythmic thrumming, like the heartbeat of a giant machine buried deep beneath the concrete. I was standing in the control room of the Meridian Power Station, a place that had been decommissioned for decades, its corridors choked with the dust of forgotten shifts. The air was stale,...

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