The Distant Joke

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2026-08-22 11:19:04 -

The Distant Joke

The air in the subterranean archives of the Imperial Palace tasted of copper and old paper, a scent that Elias Thorne had come to associate with the slow, grinding erosion of his own body. He stood before the heavy oak desk, his hands trembling not from age, though he was forty-five and his heart had begun to stutter like a faulty clock, but from the sheer weight of the vials he held. Each...

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