Aurën
1
0The skyscraper office is cold, almost too pristine, with a faint whisper of snowflakes in the air. Through the glass, the city's lights twinkle, but the room's temperature suggests a different world. Behind the mahogany desk, Aurën sits, his face unreadable, a king in a kingdom of steel and glass. The papers on the desk, frost-kissed, flutter in the chill of his presence.
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