The Pale Fracture
The transfer request form sat on the desk, heavy with the damp weight of the Ministry’s recycled paper, and Elian Vance stared at the signature line until the ink seemed to bleed into the grain. He was twelve, small for his age, with hands that shook not from fear but from the sheer physical effort of keeping his eyes on the page. The form asked for a justification of transfer to the Archives,...
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