The Pale Fracture
The ink on the parchment did not sit upon the surface; it sank, a slow, viscous bleed that seemed to eat the light from the room. Elara Vance stood before the Great Ledger, her hands trembling not from cold, though the air in the Archive was always brittle and dry, but from the sheer, crushing weight of the words she was trying to decipher. She was a Keeper of the Record, a position that had...
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