The Pale Letter
"You are late." The voice did not come from the air. It came from the stone. It vibrated in the marrow of Kaelen’s shin. He adjusted his grip on the iron pike. The metal was cold. Colder than the air. Colder than death. We were in the Void. Or so they called it. The Archives called it the Null Sector. A place of white fog. A place where the laws of physics went soft. Where gravity was a...
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