The Faded Root
The scratch was fresh. Elias Thorne ran his thumb over the steel, feeling the jagged bite of the metal. It was Cell 4. The room had been empty for six years, sealed off after the incident that had made the news, but the lock still clicked with a satisfying, heavy thud. Elias was forty-five, his knees aching from the cold tile floor, and he had twenty years of service behind him. He needed the...
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