The Pale Tale

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2026-08-19 12:23:28 -

The Pale Tale

The blade sang. It cut the air like a whispered prayer. I held the steel tight. My hands shook. Not from fear. From cold. The throne room was a tomb of ice. Marble floors. High vaulted ceilings. Shadows pooled in the corners. Like spilled ink. Like old blood. I stood before the King. Or rather, before the mirror of the King. Lord Alaric stood there. He was my reflection. But sharper. Cleaner....

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