The Pale Exile

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2026-08-20 09:58:52 -

The Pale Exile

The rain did not fall so much as it hung, a fine, static mist that clung to the skin and the wool. I walked the coastal road, my boots sinking into the wet peat. The air tasted of salt and iron. Ahead, the lighthouse stood against the grey sky, a white finger pointing at the void. It was my home. It was my body. For thirty years, I had been the keeper. Or rather, I had been the vessel that the...

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