The Pale Protocol
Thorne, the ledger is short. The voice came from the doorway, dry as the dust that settled on the window sills of Blackwood Asylum. I did not look up. My pen hovered over the page, the ink wet and black, a small pool of darkness in the center of the white. "It is balanced, Dr. Halloway," I said. "The ash is accounted for. The rations are precise." Halloway stepped into the room. The light here...
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