The Wistful Cipher
You’ll have to sign here, Ibrahim, and here." Dr. Haddad’s pen tapped against the form, a sharp, rhythmic clicking that filled the sterile office. "The union checker’s job is to count bodies, not brew potions. Your sister is dead, or she will be, and your little notebook won’t save her." Ibrahim Ghannam looked down at the paper, at the black ink that seemed to absorb the light of the...
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