The Wistful Ashes
The bell in the corridor rang, a dull, metallic thrum that vibrated through the floorboards and into the soles of Elara’s shoes. It was the signal for the final hour, the time when the Ministry of Silence demanded the last ledgers be sealed before the dawn purge swept through the lower sectors. Elara sat at her desk, the pen hovering over the page, her hand trembling not from cold, but from the...
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