The Pale Door
The iron gate stood ajar in the mist, its hinges weeping rust into the silence of the valley, and Captain Elias Thorne found himself standing before it not as a conqueror but as a supplicant, his armor weighing upon him like the accumulated guilt of a lifetime, while the wind howled through the branches of the blackthorn trees with a voice that was indistinguishable from the weeping of his...
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