The Pale Exile

added blog Literature

2026-08-18 23:37:30 -

The Pale Exile

The dream was not of flying, as it often had been in the years before, but of a room made entirely of white silence, a space so vast and empty that the air itself seemed to have ceased its circulation, leaving only a suspended dust that glittered like the crushed bones of old stars. In this pale, endless expanse, there was no floor to mark the boundary of the self, no ceiling to contain the...

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