The Pale Meridian
The ledger sat in Elara’s hands, its leather cover warm as skin, a temperature that defied the sterile chill of the Ministry’s basement archive. She turned it over, her fingers tracing the embossed title, *Final Accounts of the Department of Internal Records, 1994–2024*, and felt a dampness seep into her palms that was not sweat but something older, something that pulsed faintly against her...
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