The Pale Exile

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 00:31:50 -

The Pale Exile

The rain did not fall. It hovered. A thick, gray mist clung to the heather, turning the world into a wet, gray blur. I stood on the edge of the moor, my boots sinking into the sodden earth. The cold bit through my wool coat, settling deep in my bones. I looked back at the gate. It was closed. The lock was rusted shut, a dead thing of iron and time. "Are you coming, Elias?" The voice came from...

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