The Pale Protocol
The ink on my fingers has not fully dried, though I have washed them three times since the sun went down. It is a peculiar sensation, this residue of the act, as if the signature itself has seeped into the pores of my skin, binding the very idea of permanence to the flesh. I write this not to you, but to the record, for I have learned that in this Ministry, the only truth that survives is the...
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