The Distant Garden
The clockwork heart of the Imperial Archive does not tick; it groans, a low, tectonic shudder that travels through the floorboards and into the marrow of your bones. You wake from a trance that has lasted three hours, your left hand trembling with a violent, rhythmic spasm that defies the stillness of the vault. You are Elias Thorne, Senior Custodian, fifty-four years of service etched into the...
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