The Pale Fracture
The rain did not fall; it was poured from the sky like a slurry of ash and gray water, coating the cobblestones of the Lower Ward in a slick, mirror-like film that reflected the dying lights of the city. Caelen stood at the edge of the Fracture, the great chasm that had split the city in two three winters ago, and watched the steam rise from the wet stone. He was a Warden, one of the few men...
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