The Pale Bridge
The stone did not hurt. That was the first thing Elias noticed, lying on the cold flagstones of the Guild dormitory. His left arm was rigid, pale, and heavy, the skin turned to a chalky white that matched the limestone dust caking his clothes. He tried to flex his fingers. Nothing moved. The bone felt like it had been replaced by something dense and inert, a block of raw material waiting to be...
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