The Golden Cellar
The transfer order lay on the steel table, its edges curling slightly in the damp air of the subterranean archive, a bureaucratic death warrant for Elias Thorne’s career if he refused to sign it. He adjusted his spectacles, the cold glass of the lenses fogging instantly against his breath, and read the directive again: *Quartermaster Elias Thorne is hereby assigned to the Blackwood Institute’s...
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