The Pale Shadows
The ink on the intake form was still wet when Director Vane walked in, the scratch of his pen against the paper sounding obscenely loud in the hush of the sub-basement. Elias Thorne looked up from the cataloging log, his fingers stained blue from the archival dye, and met the Director’s gaze with a calm that felt like a mask held too long over a cracking face. He wanted to speak, to explain...
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