The Pale Shadows
The gate of the Citadel did not creak. It swallowed sound. Captain Elias Thorne stood before it. The iron was cold, a dead metal that bit into his gloves. Behind him, the rain fell in thin, silver sheets. It washed the dust from the cobblestones but could not clean the stain of the past. He looked back once. His friend, Julian, waited by the black carriage. Julian’s face was a mask of pale...
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