The Pale Door

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2026-08-17 12:05:31 -

The Pale Door

The rain in Oakhaven did not fall; it seeped. It crept up from the wet cobblestones, a cold, gray mist that clung to the wool of coats and the leather of boots, turning the ancient town into a watercolor of slate and ash. In the center of this dampness stood the Wardens’ Hall, a stone monolith that had watched over the river for three centuries, its windows narrow as eye slits, its doors heavy...

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