The Pale Fracture
The rain hits the glass like a handful of gravel. You stand on the balcony of the White Tower, the highest point in the city of Aethelgard. Below, the streets are empty. The fog rolls in thick and grey, swallowing the spires of the cathedral, the market stalls, the homes of the people you were sent to protect. Or perhaps the people you were sent to silence. The distinction has blurred for...
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