The Pale Exile

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2026-08-18 13:05:31 -

The Pale Exile

The rain does not fall; it is thrown, a sleet of iron needles that pierce the wool of your cloak and bites into the muscle beneath. You are in the gutter, not because you have fallen, but because you have been pushed. The man above you is not an enemy, not truly. He is young, his face smeared with mud and blood, his eyes wide with a terror that mirrors your own. He is a brother of the Watch,...

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