The Pale Bridge
The stone bridge did not break; it dissolved, a slow and viscous unraveling of mortar and memory that Captain Elias Thorne watched with the detached, clinical precision of a man observing the terminal stages of a disease he had long since diagnosed in his own marrow. He stood on the far bank, his boots caked in the mud of the valley floor, and watched the arches collapse into the mist below, a...
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