The Wistful Voyage
Chapter One "You’re signing the manifest with ink that isn’t ink," Thomas said, his face pale beneath the low ceiling of the sleep bay, the air thick with the damp, metallic scent of the water court. Alice Cavett did not look up from the ledger. The pages were slick, the black liquid bleeding through the paper in slow, deliberate veins that mirrored the cracks in the linoleum floor. She was...
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