The Pale Fracture
Elias, you are summoned to the High Hall. The voice of the steward cut through the damp chill of the scriptorium, sharp as a blade against the scratch of my quill. I looked up from the ledger, my fingers numb from the ink that had soaked into the skin of my thumbs, and saw the steward’s face framed by the grey light of the corridor. He did not wait for an answer. I gathered my cloak, the wool...
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