The Distant Nightmare
The clock in the Blackwood Institute’s main hall struck four, and Elias Thorne counted the hours of his life remaining in the ledger he was cataloging, each tick of the pendulum a distinct, heavy blow against his temple. He was thirty years old, a senior archivist with twelve years of service, and he wanted the promotion to Director that was his by right, a right secured by the flawless...
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