The Pale Path

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2026-08-20 02:11:39 -

The Pale Path

The rain fell in sheets of grey iron against the stained glass of the Chapel of Saint Jude, a sound like the world being ground down to powder. I stood at the lectern, my hands resting on the carved oak, feeling the cold seep through the leather of my gloves. The air smelled of wet wool and old incense, a thick, cloying perfume that seemed to choke the breath from the room. Below me, the...

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