The Pale Tale
The iron collar sat heavy on your neck, a band of cold metal that bit into the flesh of your throat, a constant, unyielding reminder of the debt you owed to the city. You were not a man of flesh and bone anymore, but a component of the municipal machinery, a gear in the great clockwork of order that kept the chaos of the streets at bay. Your name had been stripped from you, replaced by a serial...
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