The Pale Bridge

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2026-08-17 18:42:51 -

The Pale Bridge

The rain did not fall so much as it settled, a fine, persistent mist that clung to the wool of their greatcoats and turned the cobblestones of the village square into mirrors of grey sky. Elias stood by the old fountain, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, the leather worn smooth by years of grip. He was not a man given to words, nor to the easy comfort of silence. He was a Warden of the...

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