The Pale Path
The glass broke before the scream did. It happened in the archive room. The cold air bit at the edges of the silence. Mara stood by the heavy oak desk. Her hands shook. A shard of blue crystal lay on the floor. It was from the pendant. Her pendant. The one her mother had worn. The one that hummed when the wind blew right. She stared at the pieces. They glinted in the dusty light. Blue. Cold....
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