The Pale Letter
The seal is broken. You know this because the wax has cracked, a spiderweb of fractures radiating from the center where the imperial crest used to be. It looks like a wound that will not close. You hold the letter in your gloved hands. The paper is dry. It feels like skin that has been left out in the sun too long. You are Major Elias Thorne. You have been in the Citadel for thirty years. You...
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