The Wistful Show
Thorne. The name hung in the stale air of the interrogation room, heavy and accusatory, before Kael even finished speaking. Elias Thorne did not look up from the ledger in his hands. The leather binding was cracked, the pages swollen with humidity and old coffee stains, a physical weight that grounded him in the suffocating heat of the outpost. He was fifty-two years old, a man whose spine had...
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