The Pale Door
The letter from the Ministry of Internal Security lay on the kitchen table, its seal unbroken, smelling of stale ink and cold bureaucracy. Elias Thorne stared at it, his hands trembling not from fear, but from the sheer weight of the paper. It was a denial. Fourteen years of border service, reduced to a single paragraph stating that his refusal to engage a fleeing suspect constituted a...
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