The Distant Whispers

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2026-08-20 17:52:47 -

The orchid was dead. Or rather, it had ceased to be an orchid. What remained was a skeletal cage of charcoal stems and translucent, brittle leaves. It sat on the mahogany desk, a silent accusation in the center of the room. Elias Thorne did not touch it. He sat opposite the desk, in the high-backed chair that belonged to the Chancellor, though Elias was merely the archivist. The room smelled of...

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