The Pale Door
Act I The border town of San Vito ran on two languages and one dwindling supply of heat. Laundry hung from the fire-scarred pines, snapping in the wind that promised warmth and delivered only ice. Elvira Esposito, a cartographer of orphan planets, stood at the last gas station on the road out of town, her breath pluming in the cold air. She carried a sealed letter to her brother, General Marco...
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