The Pale Meridian

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2026-08-20 11:45:30 -

The Pale Meridian

The iron circlet sits heavy on your brow. It is cold. It is always cold. You are in the Hall of Mirrors. Or so the others say. You are in a place where the stone walls breathe and the air tastes of old copper and rain. You are a soldier. You are a guard. You are the last one standing. The circlet is your anchor. It is the only thing that keeps you from dissolving into the grey mist that...

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