The Distant Cartograph
"The line is wrong, Elias." Sarah’s voice cut through the hum of the ventilation system, sharp and cold as the linoleum under her shoes. Elias Thorne did not look up from the drafting table. His hand, wrapped in a thin layer of sweat, gripped the pen with a force that made the knuckles white. The ink bled slightly into the heavy cotton paper, a dark, wet stain that seemed to pulse against the...
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