The Faded Root
The chisel bit into the granite with a sound like a bone snapping, and the stone wept a thin bead of rust-colored water. I wiped the slurry from my face and looked at Thomas, who stood by the vault door with his arms crossed, watching the dark seep into the cracks. "It’s a mineral shift, Elias," he said, his voice flat and professional. "Iron oxidation. We seal the lower vaults and the...
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