The Name Buried in Ash
The company archive smells of char and rot, its shelves bowed under water-damaged ledgers no one has touched in years. You find the Station 7 inquiry folder wedged behind a collapsed binder — official pages detailing a faulty lantern, signed and sealed with bureaucratic finality.
But tucked inside the back cover, folded twice, is a single handwritten note. Three lines. A name: Victor Hayle. Your superior. The man who approved your posting to Millhaven.