The Pale Bridge
The rent notice lay on the table, a square of grey paper that seemed to absorb the light from the window. It listed the sum owed: twelve pounds, due before the frost set in the cellar walls. Elara, twelve years old and thin as a reed, traced the ink with a finger that trembled not from cold, but from the heat radiating from her left pocket. There, pressed against her hip like a brand, was the...
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