The Pale Shadows
In the sultanate, light does not fall; it is taxed. Act I I am Amaru Draff, forty-two, and I have spent the last decade studying the weave of the dead. My monograph on the "Pale Shadows" was due to the Archive before my father’s funeral in three days, a deadline set by the Guild, not by grief. What stood against him was not time, but the silver brooch of my mother, which appeared on my desk...
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