The Pale Fracture
The road to the estate of Blackwood Hall was not so much a path as a wound in the earth, a pale fracture running through the dark, damp heath. You walked it with a limp that had become your second name, your body a map of the years you had lost to the road and the road to the years. The air tasted of iron and old smoke, thick with the scent of decay that clung to the mossy stones lining the...
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