The Pale Fracture
The bread is hard. You chew. It tastes like dust. Like dry earth and stale air. You swallow. It sits in your stomach like a stone. You are walking. The path is wide. It is paved with grey slabs. No grass grows between them. No flowers. Just the pavement. It stretches out ahead of you. It goes on forever. You are the Shield. That is what they call you. You protect the Line. The Line is the wall....
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