The Pale Exile

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2026-08-18 04:46:43 -

The Pale Exile

The fog did not lift; it merely changed its mind about how thick to be. Margaret sat on the edge of the iron bedframe, her hands gripping the cold metal until her knuckles turned the color of old parchment. The room was a cavern of silence, save for the rhythmic, mechanical coughing of the steam pipes in the walls. Outside, the city of Ashford was a blur of grey soot and wet cobblestone, a...

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