The Pale Shadows
The obsidian shard lay in Elias Thorne’s palm, cold as a river stone, its surface so polished it seemed to swallow the light from the vault’s single hanging bulb. He held it there, feeling the weight of it against his lifeline, before dropping it into the evidence bag with a dull thud that echoed off the stone walls. It was the final item in the Meridian Palace audit, a job that had consumed...
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