The Pale Meridian

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2026-08-17 11:07:26 -

The Pale Meridian

The frost bit into the iron of his pauldrons, a sharp, metallic taste that seeped through the leather and settled deep in the marrow of his shoulder. Sir Alistair stood alone on the ridge, the wind howling a low, continuous note across the desolate moor, his breathing a rhythmic whistle in the thin, cold air. He looked down into the valley where the fog lay thick as wool, obscuring the village...

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