The Distant Ghost
The ink was fading. Margaret Holloway pressed her spectacles closer to the parchment, the glass blurring into a gray haze that swallowed the edges of the letters. She was forty-two, a senior archivist in the Imperial Court, and she had twenty-four hours to restore the fragmented Codex of Silence to its original binding before the autumn audit. The opposing force was not time, but the creeping...
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