The Pale Fracture
The rain had not stopped for nine days, a ceaseless, grey curtain that turned the cobblestones of Oakhaven into a slick, black mirror reflecting the warped, skeletal trees that lined the High Street, and I stood at the threshold of the Magistrate’s house, my hands trembling not from the cold but from the terrible, heavy weight of the silver brooch in my pocket, a cold metal thing that felt like...
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