The Faded Quadrant

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2026-08-23 08:47:55 -

Thorne. The name hit the back of my skull like a slap, though no one was there to strike. I flinched, my hand jerking away from the spine of the ledger, the leather cool and dry under my fingertips, worn smooth by twenty years of my own sweat. The library was silent, save for the low, rhythmic hum of the ventilation shafts and the distant, muffled percussion of rain against the high, arched...

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