The Faded Ruin
Chapter One The border industrial park hummed with the low, electric thrum of shift change, where forklifts groaned against the wet asphalt and the smell of diesel mixed with the salt air rolling off the quarry lake. Harold Hutchins stood in the ferry queue, his coat damp to the skin, watching the mist eat the far shore. He was thirty-four years old, an archivist in the Ministry of Memory, and...
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