The Pale Fracture
The wall hummed. A low, wet sound. Like a throat clearing. Elias pressed his forehead against the cold stone. The mortar was gritty under his skin. He smelled wet dust and old iron. His eyes were dry. He had not slept in three days. The hunger was a hollow thing in his belly. A small, sharp tooth. He looked up. The ceiling was high. Black. A crack ran across it. A pale line. It pulsed. Softly....
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