The Pale Banner
The church is rotting, and you know it before you see the crack in the steeple. You stand in the shadow of the nave, your breath pluming in the cold air, and you feel the weight of the silence pressing against your eardrums. It is a heavy, wet silence, the kind that follows a storm that refuses to break. The village of Oakhaven sits below you, a tangle of chimneys and smoke, oblivious to the...
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