The Pale Fracture
The air in the Hollow tasted of copper and rot. It hung thick, a physical weight against the skin, pressing down on the shoulders of Silas and Kael. They stood at the edge of the Chasm, the great wound in the earth where the old world had been ripped away. The sky above was not blue. It was a bruised purple, swollen with clouds that did not move. It was the Third Watch. The hour of the...
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