The Pale Meridian

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2026-08-20 05:48:21 -

The Pale Meridian

The air in the Hall of Echoes tastes of copper and stale wine. You are seated at a long table, your armor polished to a mirror shine, reflecting the candlelight and the faces of those who have come to watch. It is a feast. The plates are silver, heavy with roast duck and root vegetables. The bread is dark, dense, breaking apart in your mouth like earth. You eat. You must eat. The body requires...

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