The Pale Path
The house stood on the cliff like a broken tooth. Mara held the door. It was heavy. Iron hinges screamed in the wind. She did not look back. She could not. The fire had started in the cellar. That was what the villagers said. A spark from the forge. A careless hand. But Mara knew better. The air in the cellar had been thick with shadow. It had breathed. It had tasted her fear. She walked into...
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