The Pale Shadows
The knot would not hold. It slipped through my fingers, a loose loop of indigo thread that unraveled before I could even test its strength. I stared at the stain on the workbench, the deep blue bleeding into the grain of the oak, and felt the tremor start in my left hand again. It was a fine, high-frequency shake, like a tuning fork struck against the air, but it was enough. It was enough to...
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