The Pale Fracture
The hydraulic press groaned, a low, tectonic shudder that traveled up through the soles of Kael’s boots and into the marrow of his shins. He stood in the central atrium of the Spire, the air thick with the scent of ozone and copper, watching his younger brother, Eli, drive the ceremonial spike through the chest of the dissenting elder. The man’s mouth opened, a silent O of shock, before the...
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