The Pale Exile

added blog Literature

2026-08-17 18:27:41 -

The Pale Exile

The dream is not of peace, but of a wall. It is a wall of grey stone, slick with rain, stretching endlessly into a fog that tastes of copper and old ash. You are standing before it, wearing the heavy wool of your uniform, the collar stiff against your throat. In your hands, you hold a lantern that flickers with a sickly, pale green light. Behind you, the sound of boots. Not many. Just enough to...

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