The Distant Nightmare
The hum started at 3:14 AM, a low-frequency vibration that rattled the teeth in my skull and turned the sweat on my brow to ice, and I knew before I looked at the ledger that the new batch of sovereigns was wrong. I am Elias Thorne, a warden of the Imperial Mint, and for thirty-two years I have served the Crown with a precision that my colleagues mistake for coldness but which is, in truth,...
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