The Pale Shadows

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2026-08-19 15:41:54 -

The Pale Shadows

The dream was always of the oak. It stood in the center of the courtyard, its roots thick as ancient veins, its bark the color of old blood. Elara woke with the taste of sap on her tongue. It was bitter. It was real. She sat up in the narrow bed, the straw rustling beneath her like dry leaves. The room was cold. The light from the single window was gray and thin, cutting through the dust motes...

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