The Pale Path
Chapter One "You’re letting it in, Marisol," Elena hissed from the doorway, her face a map of the drying wind that had been splitting the fruit in the orchards all week. "The fog. It’s in the room." I did not look up from the school slate, half-erased, where I was trying to calculate the cost of the coal. The numbers blurred, not from the heat, but from the cold that was settling into the...
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