The Faded Apartment
The smell of the Ministry was always the same, a thick, cloying mixture of damp wool, old paper, and the metallic tang of dried blood that seemed to seep up from the floorboards of the archive room. Elara heard her name called from the top of the grand staircase, a voice like dry leaves skittering across stone, and she knew without turning that it was Minister Vane, standing in the shadow of...
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