The Pale Fracture
The pen is dry, Elara." I look up from the desk, my fingers trembling slightly against the cold steel of the blotter. "It is not dry, Director. It is merely... resistant." Halloway leans back, the leather of his chair creaking in the silent, air-conditioned office. He is a man who wears his authority like a tailored suit, fitted so tightly it restricts movement. "Your petition for your sister’s...
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