The Pale Fracture
The stone cracked not with a sound, but with a silence that swallowed the air around Elias. He stood in the center of the circular chamber, his hands pressed flat against the cold, weeping granite of the altar, feeling the tremor of the building’s death rattle through his bones. Above him, the vaulted ceiling, once a masterpiece of Gothic ambition, was beginning to shed its mortar in long, grey...
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