The Distant Crown
Elias. The name hung in the cold air of the archive, sharp and singular. It was spoken by the head archivist, Marcus Vane, from the doorway of the restricted annex. Vane’s voice was dry, like paper rubbing against paper. He did not enter. He stood in the corridor, his silhouette framed by the flickering fluorescent light, and waited. Elias did not look up. He was cataloging the estate of Julian...
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