The Pale Tale

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 15:06:40 -

The Pale Tale

The brass buttons on Sergeant Elias Thorne’s uniform were cold. They were cold because the air in the infirmary was stagnant, thick with the scent of boiled wool and iron. Elias held the badge in his left hand. It was a silver disc, worn smooth by years of thumbs rubbing against it. The edges were blurred. The engraving of the oak tree was gone, sanded away by friction. It was no longer a...

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