The Faded Dust
Act I Ruth Barlow knew the weight of the Gilded Codex better than she knew the weight of her own exhaustion, and she knew that the Inquisitor’s dawn audit would leave no room for error. She sat in the scriptorium, a cramped room within the gentrifying ward of the outer boroughs, where the air smelled of old paper and the metallic tang of rusted pipes. The clock in the wrong tower, visible...
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