The Pale Fracture

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2026-08-17 21:38:18 -

The Pale Fracture

The rain did not fall. It hung. A grey, suspended mist clung to the walls of the Watch Tower. Inside, the air smelled of wet wool and rust. Silas sat on the cold stone floor. His knees were pulled to his chest. He held the sash in his hands. It was blue. Once it had been bright, the color of a summer sky. Now it was the color of a bruise. The fabric was frayed at the edges. He rubbed his thumb...

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