The Pale Fracture
"You're late." The voice did not come from the door. It came from the floorboards, a dry rustle that sounded like a man clearing his throat after a long silence. Elias Thorne stood in the corridor of the Perimeter Office, his boots caked in the grey sludge of the outer wall. He was thirty-four, though the hollows under his eyes made him look older, as if the years had been filed away rather...
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