The Pale Fracture
The list was printed on heavy, cream-colored stock, the kind that cost three shillings a ream and smelled faintly of sulfur. Elara Vane held the paper to the light, her fingers trembling not from cold, but from the vibration of the room. The ink was fresh. Her name, Elara Vane, Senior Archivist, Grade IV, was stamped in red at the bottom of the column. Below it, in smaller type: *Status:...
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