The Pale Path
The fire did not begin with a spark, but with a silence so profound it seemed to crack the air itself, a fissure in the fabric of the world that allowed the ancient darkness to bleed through. In the highlands of the north, where the wind carried the scent of ozone and rotting peat, the village of Aelwyn burned. It was not a violent conflagration, but a slow, suffocating engulfment, as if the...
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