The Pale Path

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2026-08-20 06:10:11 -

The Pale Path

The feast hall of Ashworth Keep smelled of roasted boar and wet stone, a thick, cloying perfume that hung low over the tables where the lords of the valley sat in their furs. I sat at the bottom of the dais, my sword resting across my knees, watching the oil slicks in the candlelight. My brother, Julian, was three seats up, laughing at a jest that I did not hear, his face bright with a vitality...

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