The Pale Path
Thorne. The name hung in the air of the archive, sharp and dry, like a piece of tape pulled too quickly from a fragile page. Elias looked up from the desk, his pen hovering over the index card, the ink welling slightly before it dried. Director Halloway stood in the doorway, arms crossed, his tie knotted with a precision that made Elias’s own collar feel loose and ill-fitting. "Arthur’s final...
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