The Pale Door

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2026-08-20 07:29:51 -

The Pale Door

The feast was a wound in the dark. Candles guttered in iron sconces, casting long, trembling shadows against the stone walls of the great hall. The air smelled of roasting boar, stale ale, and the metallic tang of blood. I sat at the far end of the table, my hands hidden beneath a cloak of coarse wool. My fingers twitched. They always twitched when the noise grew too loud, when the laughter of...

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