The Faded Frontier
The first thing Elias Thorne counted was the hours left in the fiscal quarter, a dwindling ledger of sunlight that ticked down with the same mechanical indifference as the clock above him. He stood in the municipal archive, a room that smelled of acidic paper and dust, and weighed the heavy, leaden silence of the council chamber against the weight of the blueprints in his hands. He was...
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