The Pale Fracture

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2026-08-17 11:22:19 -

The Pale Fracture

The banquet hall of the Iron Citadel was not a room but a mouth, wide and red-rimmed, swallowing the light of the hundred tallow candles that lined the high vaulted ceiling until the air itself seemed to vibrate with a low, thrumming hunger that pressed against the eardrums like the weight of deep water. Sir Elias Thorne sat at the far end of the long oak table, his hands folded in his lap,...

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