The Pale Protocol
Elias Thorne’s hand shook as he held the blueprint, the paper warm against his palm, the ink shifting under his gaze like oil on water. He stood in the gray reception hall of the Municipal Water Authority in Vane, the resignation letter from his firm crumpled in his other pocket, a dry weight that felt heavier than the documents in his hand. He had come to Vane to audit the aging mains, to...
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