The Golden Echoes
The air in the corridor tasted of ozone and old paper. It was a smell Marcus had grown accustomed to over the three years he had spent within the Ministry’s containment sector, a place that existed in a fold of reality just off the edge of Chicago. Here, gravity was a suggestion, and time moved in jagged, unpredictable bursts. Marcus, a senior enforcement officer in the Department of Anomalous...
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