The Pale Fracture
The ink did not flow; it seeped, a thick, black sludge that oozed from the tip of Elias’s quill and pooled on the parchment with a wet, organic squelch. He was twenty-four years old, a scribe of the Third Order in the High Court of the Pale Fracture, and his fingers were trembling as he attempted to finalize the land deed for the Holloway family, a task that had consumed his entire week and...
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