The Pale Letter

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2026-08-17 12:44:29 -

The Pale Letter

The feast was a wound in the dark. Torches sputtered. Wine ran red. The hall was thick with breath and the smell of roasting meat. Cael sat at the high table. He was a man of stone. His armor was iron. It clanked when he shifted. He did not shift. He watched the door. The door opened. A woman walked in. She wore a gown of pale blue. It was the color of ice. It was the color of a lie. Her hair...

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