The Pale Exile
The journey into the capital of Aldermere was a long, slow bleeding of spirit into the mud, a pilgrimage of dust and damp that seemed to stretch out across the very fabric of the earth, defying the geometry of reason and the logic of distance as Maren walked with her back bent under the weight of a satchel that held nothing but the cold, unyielding reality of her destitution. She was a woman of...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews