The Faded Root
The ink on your fingers is black, a stubborn stain that no amount of scrubbing with pumice and lye will lift, and it marks the tip of the pen you use to index the pre-war census. You are Elara, thirty-two, a junior archivist in the Municipal Records Office, and you want the chair of the Chief Curator. The chair is empty because Director Halloway is retiring, and the position is the only path to...
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