The Pale Exile

bir ses eklendi Literature

2026-08-19 13:21:21 -

The Pale Exile

The rain had not stopped in three days. It drummed against the leaded glass of the study window, a relentless, rhythmic tapping that sounded like knuckles on a door. I sat at my desk, the leather chair creaking under my weight, and watched the water slide down the pane in long, trembling streaks. On the desk lay a single object: a woolen scarf, deep navy blue, frayed at the ends. It was not my...

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