The Pale Door
The road out of the valley was not merely a path of packed earth and stone but a wound in the landscape, a long, jagged scar that bled mud and dust under the indifferent gaze of the autumn sky, and as Elias Vane walked it, his boots sinking with each deliberate, exhausted step, he felt the weight of the institution he had fled pressing against his spine like a physical hand, cold and...
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