The Faded Root
The vial in Elias Thorne’s pocket was warm, a strange, living heat that did not match the chill of the archive room. He was forty-five, a senior inspector at the Ministry of Internal Order, and he had only one thing left to do before the winter solstice: secure his pension. His heart, a traitorous engine of flesh and blood, refused to beat with the regularity his superiors demanded. The...
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