The Pale Shadows

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2026-08-19 16:29:39 -

The Pale Shadows

The cold was not merely in the air. It was in the bone. In the marrow. In the very marrow of the place. Maren stood before the glass. It was a pane of thick, frosted Victorian glass. Set into the oak door of the Hall. She held it in her hands. Or rather. She held the frame. The glass was gone. Shattered. A web of white cracks. A spider’s death. Maren’s fingers were raw. The cold bit into them....

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