The Pale Exile

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2026-08-18 04:24:37 -

The Pale Exile

The fog did not lift so much as it died, exhaling a cold, grey breath that settled upon the cobblestones of Alderwick like a shroud. In the center of the square, where the fountain once sang with the sound of living water, stood the figure of Sergeant Elias Thorne. He was a man composed of sharp angles and silent endurance, his uniform a dark, muted slate that absorbed the dim light of the...

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