The Pale Meridian

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 00:44:20 -

The Pale Meridian

The mist clung to the valley floor like a burial shroud. It was thick and grey. It tasted of wet stone and rot. Silas stood alone. He was a man carved from the same wood as the oaks surrounding him. His face was a map of old scars and newer lines. His eyes were dark. They held no light. Only the weight of what he carried. He was a soldier. Not of a nation. But of the Order. The Order that kept...

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