The Pale Tale
The iron gate of the Citadel of St. Jude groaned against its rusted hinges, a sound like a dying man’s last breath, as Captain Elias Thorne dragged his broken body through the threshold, the blood from his left shoulder soaking through the heavy wool of his tunic, turning the dark fabric into a slick, heavy weight that pulled at his wounded flesh. He was not alone in his suffering, for behind...
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