The Distant Cartograph
The rain had stopped, leaving the parking lot of the Meridian Institute slick with a grey film that reflected the sterile white of the building’s facade, and Elara Vance stood by her sedan, the engine sputtering and dying with a wet cough that sounded disturbingly like her own throat clearing. She had spent the last six hours locking the server room, double-checking the physical keys, and...
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