The Pale Echo
The building did not burn, but it screamed, a low, tectonic groan that vibrated in the marrow of your bones before the glass shattered, sending a glittering rain of debris across the wet pavement of the city street. You stood in the center of the intersection, your coat unbuttoned, your hands open and empty, feeling the sudden, violent absence of the thing you had been holding. It was not a...
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