The Distant Legend
The ink is dry, but the stain remains. It sits on the desk of the Ministry of Internal Affairs, a dark, bruised blotch that has not faded despite decades of sunlight and rain. You are standing in the corridor outside the Minister’s office, your hands trembling not from the cold, but from the weight of the silence. The building is a monolith of gray stone, built in the late nineteenth century to...
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