The Pale Door
The server room smelled of ozone and old fear. I stood before the pale door, a shimmer in the air that defied the geometry of the room, and felt the cold seep into my bones. It was not a ghost, not in the way the old stories promised, but a resonance trap, a harmonic anomaly left behind by the previous architect, Marcus Vane. Vane had built Meridian Tower with a flaw in its soul, a structural...
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