The Faded Quadrant
The brass tip of the pencil snapped against the spine of the ledger, a small, sharp sound that cut through the heavy, stagnant air of the library. Elara did not flinch, though the vibration of the break traveled up through her wrist and into the hollow of her chest, a cold tremor that she swallowed before it could reach her throat. She was cataloging the estate of Lord Vane, a task that...
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