The Pale Exile

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2026-08-19 17:06:40 -

The Pale Exile

The coat had been on my back for three days before I realized it was no longer mine, a heavy thing of coarse wool and faded indigo that had belonged to a man who died in the winter of our discontent, the one who spoke of justice as if it were a river that could be dammed and redirected to fill the dry fields of the poor while the rich built their houses on the high ground where the sun shone...

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