The Distant Crown
The letter lay on the desk, the ink still wet, smelling of iron and regret. It was a suspension order, signed by Chief Miller, my superior, and it detailed my "insubordination" with a precision that felt surgical. I read it twice, the words blurring not from tears, but from the sudden, crushing weight in my chest. Outside, the Gray Veil was thickening, a low-hanging mist that smelled of wet ash...
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