The Wistful Campus
Chapter One Did anyone in the valley know what the silver brooch cost, or did they only know that it hummed when a lie was spoken nearby? Nazario Orozco kept the brooch pinned to the collar of his coarse tunic, the metal warm against his skin, a secret he had carried for three years without a single word to another soul. He sat in the archive room, a space that smelled of dry rot and old ink,...
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