The Pale Exile
The glass did not break all at once, which was perhaps the most terrible part of it, for it shattered in a slow, deliberate cascade of light that seemed to hang in the stale air of the chamber like a frozen storm, each fragment catching the candlelight and throwing it back in jagged, accusing shards. Elara stood in the center of the great hall, her hands still raised in the air as if she had...
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