The Faded Frequency
The ink on the parchment had not yet dried when the silence became a weight. It pressed against the eardrums, a low, thrumming vibration that seemed to emanate not from the air, but from the stones of the tower itself. Elias Vance sat at the edge of the writing desk, his fingers stained with iron-gall, staring at the final line he had scrawled. He was a man of few words, a soldier who had...
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