The Pale Fracture
The glass in the Hall of Records did not shatter with a sound. It broke with a silence so profound it felt like the air itself had been punctured, a vacuum sucking the breath from the lungs of the three men who stood before the Great Archive. Elowen stood in the center, her hands still raised, fingers splayed as if she were holding a bird that had just slipped away into the blue. The shards...
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