The Pale Protocol
Chapter One The ink on the page was wetter than the rain outside. Esperanza Nogales sat in the quarantine hut, the stone floor slick with condensation, and watched the quill tremble in her hand. It was a fine instrument, carved from the bone of a gull, but it refused to obey the geometry of the seal. She had been an Inquisitor for twelve years, a duration that felt both like a blink and a...
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