The Pale Tale
The sky tore open above the moor, not with thunder, but with a silence so heavy it pressed against Maren’s eardrums until they popped. She stood on the crest of the hill, her boots sinking into the wet peat, watching the black smoke rise from the valley below. It was not the grey smoke of a chimney fire, nor the white steam of a kettle. It was absolute void, a hole in the air where light went...
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