The Pale Exile

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2026-08-19 19:18:34 -

The Pale Exile

The hall blazed with the light of a thousand bees. They hummed in the golden wax, trapped in their own brilliance, illuminating the face of the King. He sat high, a pale stone statue carved from the bones of the past. Below, the court swirled like water around a rock. Sir Thomas Ashworth stood at the edge of the tide. He held a cup of wine. It was dark, thick, and tasted of iron. He was not...

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