The Faded Chronicle
The ink on the ledger was still wet when Elias Thorne noticed the tremor in his hand, a subtle vibration that mirrored the wind rattling the single pane of glass in the office window. He was thirty-two, a clerk of modest ambition and precise arithmetic, and for the first time in his life, he held the power to unmake the man who sat across from him. Lord Vane did not look up from his tea, his...
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