The Pale Mist
The rain lashed against the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Obsidian Hall, a relentless, grey curtain that blurred the city into a smear of neon and shadow, and Dr. Elias Thorne stood before the faculty council, his tie loosened, his hands trembling not from fear but from the sheer, physical weight of the data he held in his fist, a printout of the university’s endowment reports that he had...
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