The Pale Banner
The river is wrong, Elara." I looked up from the drafting table, my ink-stained fingers freezing mid-stroke. Director Halloway stood by the window, his back to me, silhouetted against the grey November sky. He didn’t turn around. The smell of the office was sharp, a mix of stale pipe tobacco and the damp rot of the city’s foundations, a scent that seemed to seep up through the floorboards and...
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