The Pale Door

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2026-08-17 12:50:38 -

The Pale Door

The road was white. Not with snow, but with ash. It coated my tongue. It clogged my boots. I walked. I had to walk. The sky was a bruised purple, swollen with smoke. No birds. No wind. Just the hiss of my own breath. I am not human. I was never human. I am a thing of the old woods. A shade. A whisper given weight. But here, in the dead valley, I was flesh. I was pain. I carried a sword. It was...

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