The Pale Shadows
The road to the village of Oakhaven is not a straight line, but a wound in the earth, a dark vein of mud and slate that twists through the mist. You walk it with the heavy, deliberate gait of a man who knows his time is running out, your hands clasped behind your back, fingers digging into the wool of your coat. You are Thomas Bradshaw, a man of trade, of ledgers and contracts, of the solid...
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