The Pale Door
The night the Great Oak of Kestrel’s Hollow was felled, the earth did not merely shake; it convulsed with a profound and terrible intimacy, as if the ground itself had been gutted and turned inside out, sending a shudder through the soles of my boots and up into the marrow of my bones, a vibration that I felt not just in my body but in the very structure of the air around me, thick with the...
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