The Pale Fracture
The fog in Oakhaven did not merely obscure the world; it consumed it, a thick, sulfurous grey that clung to the eaves of the Victorian row houses and seeped into the pores of the skin, a permanent shroud that the residents had long since learned to navigate by touch rather than sight. Elias Thorne, Deputy Warden of the Oakhaven Correctional Facility, stood before the heavy steel door of Cell 4,...
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