The Faded Ruin
Act I Can a hand hold a life if it is already breaking? I asked the clerk, but he only looked at the form, his eyes sliding over the blood on my knuckles as if it were a smudge of ink. The light in the Sector office was gray and flat, coming through windows that had not been washed in a decade, casting a pallor over the dust motes dancing in the air. My sister, Hana, sat in the waiting room,...
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