The Pale Shadows

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2026-08-17 12:33:20 -

The Pale Shadows

The fire took the mill at dawn. It started with a spark in the boiler room, a tiny orange tongue that licked the oil-soaked rags and then the timber. By the time the alarm bells screamed, the roof was already sagging. I stood on the ridge of the hill, the cold air biting my cheeks, and watched the heart of the valley turn to ash. My name is Thomas. I am a clockmaker. For twenty years, I built...

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