The Distant Journey
The rain tapped against the high windows of the archive, a rhythmic, insistent drumming that Clara Vane tried to ignore. She was thirty-two, junior archivist, and she had one weekend left to complete the Vane Ledger before Mr. Halloway fired her for incompetence. The ledger sat on her desk, a bound book of black leather and yellowed paper, its spine cracked and weeping a faint, dark moisture....
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