The Pale Meridian
The low-frequency hum had been with Elias Thorne for three days, a subsonic vibration that seemed to originate not in his ears but in the marrow of his bones. It was a sound like a refrigerator running in a closed room, or the distant thrum of a power line in a storm, and it intensified whenever he spoke a falsehood, a physiological tether to his conscience that he had long believed was a...
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