The Pale Fracture

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2026-08-19 21:04:19 -

The Pale Fracture

The hall smelled of roasted pork and old stone. Candles flickered. Wax dripped. It pooled on the oak table. The air was thick. Heavy. Suffocating. Everyone was eating. They ate with their hands. No forks. No spoons. Just flesh and bone. The noise was a roar. A constant, low hum. A vibration in the teeth. Miles stood at the edge. He did not eat. He held the cup. It was clay. Cracked. Worn smooth...

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