The Pale Exile

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2026-08-18 23:04:04 -

The Pale Exile

The iron gate of the Ashworth estate groaned under the weight of the autumn wind, a sound like a bone snapping in a quiet room. Margaret stood on the porch, her hands white-knuckled around the railing, watching the mist curl through the oak trees below. She was not a woman given to grand gestures, nor one who sought the dramatic. She was a clerk in the town’s registry office, a life of...

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