The Pale Fracture
The air in the town of Oakhaven tastes of iron and ozone. It is a metallic tang that coats the back of your throat, a constant reminder of the machinery that hums beneath the cobblestones. You stand at the center of the square, surrounded by the faces of your neighbors. They are smiling. They are always smiling. Their teeth are white, their eyes bright, and their hands are clasped in front of...
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