The Distant Ghost
The letter lay on the desk, the seal broken, the ink still wet in the grooves of the parchment. It was a standard notification from the Magistrate’s Office, a form of polite bureaucratic violence that Elias Thorne had learned to read without feeling. It informed him that his tenure as Archivist of the Silent Ward was under review due to irregularities in the ledger. The paper smelled of iron...
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