The Faded Quadrant
The bone cracked. It did not break cleanly. It splintered, a jagged white shard of history splitting apart in the gloom of the basement. Elias held the fragment. It was cold. It was heavy. It was his own. "Put it down," said Arthur. His voice was thin, stretched over the damp air. "You’re bleeding." Elias looked at his hand. The skin was torn. Red welled in the crevices of the fracture. He did...
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