The Pale Path
Wichai Suwannarat’s fingers bled onto the shattered jade seal, the fragments cold and wet in his palm as he stood in the ink-stained courtyard of the Ministry of Records. He wanted to restore the artifact to prove his loyalty, but the air hummed with a supernatural chill that whispered his name in a voice not his own, marking the first sign of the institution’s predatory bias. The wind off the...
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