The Distant Promise
The ledger was open, the ink still wet and smelling of iron and vinegar, and Elara Vance’s finger hovered over the entry for Margaret Holloway, the date circled in red ink that looked less like a mark and more like a wound. "You’ve been staring at that page for an hour, Elara." The voice was dry, papery, like the sound of old newsprint being crumpled. Dr. Thorne did not turn from the window...
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