The Pale Exile
The road to the village of Oakhaven was not merely a path of dirt and stone; it was a wound in the earth, a long, jagged scar that I had walked for forty years before finally understanding its purpose. I was a scholar of the old rites, a keeper of the words that bound the soil to the sky, and I had come to this place of quiet, grey mist to deliver a judgment. The Council of Elders, that distant...
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