The Pale Path

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2026-08-17 15:00:35 -

The Pale Path

The lantern was not a gift, Thomas whispered, his voice trembling with a fervor that made the cold air around us crackle like dry twigs. It was a debt, paid in the blood of those who refused to see. I held the object in my hands, feeling the intricate woodwork, the way the varnish had begun to chip and peel, revealing the pale, raw grain beneath. It was worn, terribly worn, as if it had been...

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