The Pale Fracture
The separation was not a door closing, but a tearing, a sudden and violent rip in the fabric of the air that left the world on the other side humming with a low, electric dread. Sir Alistair Thorne stood at the edge of the obsidian precipice, his boots sinking slightly into the dust of the Forgotten Vale, and watched his daughter, Elara, step backward into the shimmering, translucent membrane...
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