The Pale Fracture
"Stop it," the Overseer said, his voice low and dry as parchment. "You are bleeding on the ledger." I pulled my hand back, but the ink had already soaked into the grain of the paper, a dark, wet stain that looked too much like a bruise. The lamp above my desk sputtered, casting long, jagged shadows across the stone floor of the Iron Ministry. It was the hour of the third bell, the light from...
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