The Pale Exile

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 06:05:46 -

The Pale Exile

The hall smells of roast goose and wet wool. You are seated. The candles gutter. The air is thick with breath. You look down. Your hands are still. They are not shaking. You are a guard. You watch the door. You watch the table. You watch the faces. They are smiling. They are drinking. They do not know what you see. You hold the sprig of thyme. It is green. It is brittle. It breaks under your...

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