The Pale Verdict
The silver locket hangs heavy against your sternum, a cold weight that pulls the skin taut as you scrub the grime from the registry books in the basement, the motion of your wrist a repetitive, grinding labor that seems to shake the dust from the ceiling beams above. You are Elias Thorne, forty-two years old, a junior archivist who has spent the last three years cataloging the dead, and you...
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