The Pale Fracture
Elias counted the mortar bags. Twelve. Each weighed forty pounds, the dust settling on his hands like grey snow. He had three days until the solstice, and the Fracture in the Hall of Echoes was widening. The light in the chamber was flat and white, the kind that strips color from things, making the stone look like bone. He mixed the first batch, the trowel scraping against the metal pan with a...
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