The Pale Dance

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2026-08-19 23:34:51 -

The Pale Dance

The feast in the Great Hall of Oakhaven was not a celebration of victory, but a rehearsal for oblivion. The air hung thick with the scent of roasted boar, stale mead, and the heavy, metallic tang of fear that seemed to seep from the stone walls themselves. I sat at the high table, my hands folded in my lap, feeling the weight of the steel gauntlet on my left hand. It was a masterwork of the...

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