The Pale Banner
The iron gate of the Blackwater Penitentiary shudders under the weight of your shoulder as you force it open, the cold metal biting into your skin, a pain that is sharp and immediate and real, a pain that anchors you to the physical world even as the air inside the building grows thick with a scent that is not quite rot, nor quite smoke, but something older, something that tastes of copper and...
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