The Wistful Saga
Thorne, come in here, now. The summons came from Director Halloway’s office, a low, dry sound that cut through the damp chill of the Ministry’s third floor. Elias Thorne paused, his fingers still hovering over the cold keys of his typewriter, the paper jammed halfway through the entry for the quarterly grain tax. He looked up, and for a second, the fluorescent light above him flickered, casting...
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