The Pale Meridian

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2026-08-20 06:17:48 -

The Pale Meridian

The glass beads of my collar were the only things in the village of Oakhaven that had a sound. They were not beautiful, not truly. They were heavy, clouded with age, and when I moved my neck, they clicked against one another with a dull, wet thud that seemed to absorb the light around me. I wore them tight, a constricting ring of obsidian and salted glass, and I did not take them off. I could...

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