The Pale Exile

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 08:08:37 -

The Pale Exile

The rain fell on the shield of Aldric Vane, a cold, relentless drumming that sounded like the teeth of the dead clicking together. He stood in the mud of the courtyard, his armor dented and weeping rust, the metal slick with the sludge of the valley. Across the space, Lord Malachi sat upon a throne of carved bone, his face a mask of serene indifference. Malachi did not draw his sword. He did...

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