The Pale Letter

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2026-08-19 15:32:25 -

The Pale Letter

The frost did not merely settle upon the windowpanes of the Blackwater Watchtower; it grew, thick and gnarled, like the veins of a dying hand pressing against the glass, until the world outside became a blurred, gray smear of memory and ice. You stood in the center of the room, your boots heavy with the damp cold that seeped up through the stone floor, and you felt the weight of your own...

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