The Pale Letter

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2026-08-19 08:13:03 -

The Pale Letter

The road to the village of Oakhaven was not a path but a scar, a deep red line carved into the green flank of the mountain, and I walked it with the heavy, dragging gait of a man whose bones had forgotten how to hold their shape. I was not old, not by the reckoning of the calendar, yet time had taken its toll on me in the only way it knows how: by hollowing me out. I carried no pack, no sword,...

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