The Pale Fracture
You are standing in the hall. The stone is cold. It bites your feet. No, not stone. It is metal. Smooth. White. Sterile. The Palace of Glass. They call it that. It is not a palace. It is a cage. High. So high. You cannot see the top. The light comes from above. It hums. A low thrum. It vibrates in your teeth. In your bones. You feel it. Deep. You are here because of the error. The pale...
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