The Pale Fracture
The paper was thin, cheap, and smelled of the damp cellar where the accounts were kept. It was a notice of wage suspension, signed in Kael’s cramped, angular hand. I held it up to the light of the foreman’s desk, where the pale fracture hung in the air like a crack in old glass, glowing with a faint, sickly white. It pulsed, a slow rhythm that matched the thrum of the looms outside. I wanted...
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