The Pale Bonsai
The winter audit began with a crack in the plaster of the east wing, a fissure that wept a thin, grey dust onto the archives below. I am Elara, thirty-two, a junior archivist in the Ministry of Eternal Records, and I need my permanent tenure before the high council arrives. The building breathes. It is a simple fact, known to all who work within its stone ribs, but one that is rarely spoken...
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