By late afternoon, the central command vault had been thoroughly scrubbed of toxic contaminants by the citadel’s high-efficiency particulate air filtration systems. Otto and four elite tactical guards had transferred the lead-lined casing to a bio-hazard incinerator, while Malachi and Serena sat before the roaring hearth in the private library. Malachi had pointedly refused to replace the gilded mask upon his face. For the first time in fifteen years, he…
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