The Wistful Skyline
The glass shattered not with a crash, but with a high, thin shriek that cut through the sterile hum of the server room. It was a sound that did not belong to the physical world, a frequency that vibrated in the marrow before it reached the ear. Elias Thorne stood in the center of the aisle, his hands still raised in the act of dropping the object. The shards of the prism—once a flawless,...
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