The Faded Dust
Elara. The name was not a summoning but a verdict, spoken by the Director in a voice that stripped the air of its oxygen, hanging in the silence of the Ministry of Heritage like a suspended weight. She stood at the head of the long mahogany table, her hands clasped before her, the knuckles white against the dark wood, while the audit committee sat in a row of grey suits, their pens poised like...
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