The Pale Exile

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2026-08-20 10:09:21 -

The Pale Exile

The iron gate groaned, a low, mournful shriek that cut through the thick, coal-dusted fog of the city. Elias Vance stood on the steps of the Ministry of Internal Security. His hand trembled against the cold brass railing. He was a man carved from stone and silence, his face a map of old scars and new doubts. The air tasted of sulfur and wet wool. It was a smell that had seeped into his pores...

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