The Faded Chronicle
The pot cracked on the third day. It was not a dramatic shattering, but a slow, hairline fracture that began at the rim and snaked down toward the base like a vein of quartz in dark stone. Thomas watched the fissure widen with the detached precision of a man inspecting a faulty gear. He did not touch it. He did not try to mend it. He simply held it, his small hands wrapped around the cold...
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