The Golden Visit
The fracture in the obsidian floor of the Ministry’s central atrium did not look like a break in the stone, but rather a vein of cold, rhythmic light pulsing beneath the surface, a slow, arrhythmic heartbeat that Elara had ignored for three days until it began to hum in the marrow of her own bones. She stood at the edge of the gilded hall, her forty-year-old body stiff with the particular ache...
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