The Pale Verdict
The ink in the *Pale Verdict* had shifted again by dawn, the characters bleeding into one another like bruises on old parchment. I sat in the vault, the air thick with the scent of iron gall and my own exhausted sweat, listening to the silence that was never truly silent here. My hands, stained a permanent violet from the acid solvents, trembled as I brushed a flake of dust from the spine; the...
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