The Pale Tale
Chapter One "The ink is bleeding again, Erika." Jonas stood by the workbench, his hands wrapped in rags that had once been white, now stained with the black residue of the failed plate. The studio at ninety-six of Stonecutter Alley was cold, the kind of damp that settled into the joints and refused to leave, a physical weight against the lungs. Erika Lehmann looked at the metal, where the...
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