The Faded Ruin
The morning light entered the atrium of the Sovereign’s Hall not as a gift, but as an interrogation, slicing through the dust motes that hung suspended in the stagnant, air-conditioned silence like the ghosts of decisions long since made. Elara Vance stood by the window, her fingers tracing the cool, condensation-slicked glass, watching the ivy that climbed the exterior facade with a slow,...
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