The Pale Fracture
The ledger lay open on the stone table, its pages thick with the weight of centuries, and Silas Vane read the final entry with the detached precision of a man signing a death warrant. The paper was dry, brittle, and cold to the touch, a stark contrast to the humid heat that pressed against the walls of the archive, a heat that seemed to breathe from the mortar itself. He was forty years old,...
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