The Faded Ruin
The buzzer at the service entrance shrieked, a jagged tear in the silence of the archive, and Elias Thorne froze, his chisel hovering a millimeter above the fractured rim of the porcelain urn. He did not turn immediately; he knew the sound of the Bureau’s inspectors, the heavy, deliberate tread of boots on stone that signaled not a visit but an audit, and he held his breath until his lungs...
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