The Pale Fracture
The ledger is heavier than it looks, Elias, and you know why." You stand in the center of the Debt Ward, the air thick with the smell of damp wool and old paper, while Archivist Silas Thorne, a man whose hands are stained permanently black from the ink he uses to mark the condemned, watches you with a pity that cuts deeper than anger would. He is not a stranger to you; for ten years, he has...
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