The Pale Bridge
The iron gate was rusted shut. It had been rusted shut for a decade, ever since the mine collapsed and took the father with it. Elias stood before it. He was seven years old. His hands were small. They were dirty. He held a lantern. The glass was cracked. The light inside was weak. It was a dying light. It flickered against the dark wood of the gate. He did not open it. He did not need to. The...
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