The Distant Crown
The seal on the letter was broken, but the wax remained, a cracked red shell that Elias Thorne held up to the window light. It was a symbol of order, of the rigid lines that held the world together, yet in his hand it felt brittle, prone to crumbling into dust. He had served the Ministry for twenty years, a man who believed in the weight of paper and the sanctity of procedure. Now, standing on...
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