The Wistful Campus
"Put the kettle on, Elias. You look like death warmed over, and I need tea before the ink gets you." Dr. Vane’s voice cut through the silence of the archive, sharp and dry as old parchment. I did not turn around. My hands were buried in the open pages of the Whispering Codex, the leather cover slick and cold under my palms. The smell of the room was thick, a mix of mildew, dust, and something...
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