The Pale Fracture
The iron lantern hung from the rusted archway of the gate, its glass shielded by a film of condensation that obscured the weak, trembling flame within. I stood before it, the weight of my ceremonial sword, the Obsidian Fracture, pressing a cold, familiar ache into my shoulder blade. The sword was a relic of the old order, a jagged shard of meteoritic iron that had been forged by hands now...
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