The Pale Exile

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2026-08-17 14:12:33 -

The Pale Exile

The chalice was not gold, nor was it silver. It was bone. You held it in your hands, the knuckles white, the skin stretched tight over the joints as if you were trying to crush the thing to dust. It was cold, a cold that did not seem to come from the air of the great hall but from somewhere deep within the stone itself, a chill that seeped through the leather of your gloves and settled in the...

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