The Pale Fracture

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2026-08-19 00:12:42 -

The Pale Fracture

The banquet hall of the Citadel smelled of roasted lamb and ozone. It was a scent that clung to the tongue, metallic and sweet, masking the underlying rot of the air filtration systems that kept the lower districts from choking on their own dust. I sat at the long table carved from a single slab of polished obsidian, my uniform pressed so tight it felt like a second skin. To my left sat Major...

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