The Pale Tale

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2026-08-19 08:25:26 -

The Pale Tale

The mud sucked at Thomas’s boots. He pulled. The mud held. Rain hammered the road. It was cold. Not winter cold. Autumn cold. The kind that seeps into the bone. Thomas ran. His lungs burned. Each breath was a jagged shard of glass. Behind him, the sound of hooves. Clatter. Clatter. Fast. He did not look back. He knew who followed. He knew why. The village of Oakhaven lay ahead. A cluster of...

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