The Pale Meridian
The water in the reservoir behind St. Jude’s Academy for the Deaf was not simply blue; it was a heavy, viscous thing, a sludge of algae and dead leaves that seemed to swallow the light before it could touch the surface, creating a mirror so dark and still that it reflected not the sky above but the rotting underside of the world beneath. Elias, a boy of fourteen with hair the color of wet straw...
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