The Pale Shadows
The stone was cold, but the wind was colder, biting through Elias Thorne’s wool tunic as he hauled the chisel across the granite face of the north tower. It was dusk in Oakhaven, that thin, violet hour when the shadows stretched long and strange against the cobblestones. Elias did not look up. He could not afford to look up. The solstice was three weeks away, and the Guild Master’s ledger was...
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