The Faded Chronicle
Chapter One Who could have stolen the receipts, if not the man who wrote them? Odette Dumas asked the question aloud in the scriptorium, where the air smelled of mildew and old paper, and the silence that followed was heavier than the ledgers stacked on her desk. She was thirty-two, an archivist with ink-stained fingers, and the grey light of the mid-century city pressed against the windows...
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