The Distant Threshold
The letter lay on the oak desk, its edges yellowed and soft as cloth, bearing the seal of the Meridian Institute of Antiquities. Elara Vane read it twice, the ink blurring slightly in the dim afternoon light that slanted through the high, dust-moted windows. It was a formal notice of tenure review, a document that promised security if she could catalog the newly acquired Whispering Archive...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews