The Faded Frontier
The form was damp, the ink bleeding into the paper like a bruise that refused to set. Elias Thorne held it up to the grey light filtering through the high windows of the Ministry of Records, his fingers trembling not from cold, but from the weight of the document itself. It was a denial. Beneath the official seal, Director Vane’s signature slithered across the page, a long, jagged line that...
0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 1 Views 0 previzualizare