The Pale Exile

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 11:16:58 -

The Pale Exile

The rain had not stopped for three days. It drummed against the thick oak beams of the watchtower, a relentless, rhythmic pounding that matched the quickening of my heart. I sat in the shadows, my back against the cold stone. The air smelled of wet wool, old iron, and the faint, sweet rot of the herbs my mother had dried last summer. In my hands lay the coat. It was a heavy thing, woven from...

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