The Pale Verdict
The dream began not with a sound, but with the weight of a seal pressed into wax, a red circle of authority that tasted of iron and old blood in the back of Aldous Thorne’s mouth, a taste that had haunted him since the day he left the barracks behind the misty hills of the northern highlands, a time when the world was simple and the lines between duty and desire were drawn in chalk on dusty...
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