The Pale Tale

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2026-08-18 23:51:21 -

The Pale Tale

The ink on the parchment was not black, but a deep, bruised purple that seemed to pulse against the heavy cream of the vellum. I held the quill suspended above the line, my hand trembling not from age, but from the sheer weight of the silence that had settled into the marrow of my bones. Outside the high arched windows of the keep, the wind howled through the bare branches of the elms, a sound...

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