The Pale Shadows
The bone snapped with a sound like dry kindling. It was not a dramatic crack. It was a whisper, a sudden give in the architecture of the arm. Elias looked down at the white sleeve of his uniform. He did not bleed. He simply felt a coldness spread from the elbow to the fingers, a numbness that tasted of iron and old dust. Around him, the office continued its slow, mechanical rotation. Clocks...
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