The Pale Echo

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2026-08-20 19:57:50 -

The Pale Echo

The rain did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a suspended grey fog that clung to the stone faces of the cathedral and seeped into the very marrow of the structure. Elias Thorne stood in the narthex, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his oilskin coat, watching the water trace slow, deliberate lines down the ancient limestone. He was a restorer, a man who spoke the language of mortar...

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