The Pale Fracture
The coat was too heavy for the season. It hung on Elias’s shoulders like a shroud, the wool thick and matted with years of damp and dust. He stood in the center of the hall, the only other person present. The room smelled of ozone and old paper. The clock on the wall did not tick. It simply waited. "Is it time?" Elias asked. His voice was thin. It scraped against the silence. The figure in the...
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