The Pale Banner
Act I Rania Farah, thirty-two, a scribe in the ancient town of Keth, woke to the sound of the kettle settling on the stove, a sharp, metallic click that cut through the oppressive heat of the night. The air was thick, a physical weight against the skin, and the clock on the wall, fast by six minutes, ticked with a frantic, erroneous precision that made the silence feel louder. I wanted to...
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