The Pale Fracture
The road is grey. It is a ribbon of dust and broken slate that cuts through the valley of Oakhaven. You walk it. Your boots are heavy with the mud of three days. You are a man of the Watch. Your tunic is grey wool, stiff with sweat and old blood. On your left breast, pinned to the fabric, is a medallion. It is small. It is made of pale bone. It is cracked down the middle. You do not look at it....
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