The Pale Altar
The stamp was cold, a block of black rubber that felt like a piece of dead skin in my palm, and I pressed it into the wet ink with a force that cracked the paper beneath. The Ministry of Internal Order does not deal in nuance; it deals in weight, and the weight of a signature is the only thing that holds the world together here. I am Elias Thorne, a senior adjudicator, and I have spent twenty...
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