The Pale Exile
The stone of the manor did not crumble so much as it exhaled, a slow, grinding sigh that shook the dust from the rafters and settled into the creases of your skin, and you knew with the dull, heavy certainty of a bone breaking under the weight of a body that the structure was finally giving up its fight against the rain, the rot, and the relentless, indifferent passage of time that had worn its...
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