The Pale Dance

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2026-08-17 11:38:31 -

The Pale Dance

The frost had begun to gnaw at the edges of the parchment, a slow, white erosion that mirrored the decay within the stone walls of the High Table. Elara sat motionless in the center of the long oak bench, her hands folded tightly over the artifact she held. It was a small, smooth stone, pale as bone, worn by centuries of thumbs and time. To the eyes of the Court of Whispers, it was merely a...

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