The Distant Summer
Vane, you are late, and the ledger is not balanced. Director Halloway’s voice did not rise; it merely occupied the space where the air should have been, a cold, bureaucratic weight that pressed against the back of Elias Vane’s neck. Elias stood in the corridor of the Palace, his fingers still stained with the graphite of the inventory he had been forced to complete, the chalk dust settling into...
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