The Golden Circuit
The ink smudges slightly as I press the pen to the paper, a dark bruise forming in the corner of the page, and I am sitting in the sterile white light of the holding area at the Oakhaven Border Station, writing this down because if I do not, I am afraid I will forget the exact shade of the sorrow in Silas Vane’s eyes. It is 02:00 hours, and the fog outside the reinforced glass is not merely...
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