The Pale Tale

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2026-08-17 19:13:22 -

The Pale Tale

The Great Hall of Oakhaven did not smell of wine or roasted meats, as one might expect of a feast in the ancient days of the kingdom, but rather of damp wool, old parchment, and the metallic tang of impending rain that pressed its gray face against the high, arched windows. It was a silence that had weight, a silence that settled into the marrow of the bones, and in the center of this...

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