The Pale Shadows
The ice broke first. It happened at dawn. The lake, usually a sheet of black glass, fractured with a sound like a gunshot. Then a second. Then a thousand. Margot stood on the dock of the asylum, watching the white shards drift apart. They were beautiful. They were terrible. She felt the cold bite through her wool coat, a sharp, physical reminder that she was still alive. She was an exile here....
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