The Faded Ruin
14th of Frostfall, Third Year. The blueprint spread across the desk is a lie, or at least a very polite one, and I am sketching the final load-bearing columns for the Sector 7 dam with a hand that trembles only when I think I am being watched. Mara sits in the corner, her knees pulled to her chest, her breathing shallow and erratic, a rhythm that matches the vibration in my molars. The Hum is...
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