The Pale Altar
The marble floor of the Ministry of Internal Security is not white, but a pale, sickly gray, the color of old bone, and it is here, under the cold fluorescent hum of the atrium, that Director Vane hands you the signed death warrant for Julian. You are Elias Thorne, forty-two years old, a senior inspector with twenty years of service, and your hands do not shake as you take the paper, though...
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