The Pale Exile

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 21:50:30 -

The Pale Exile

The cart groaned under the weight of the winter. It was a dry, biting cold that settled into the marrow, a silence that pressed against the eardrums. I was young. My name was Elian, though I had not spoken it aloud in years. We traveled from the highlands of the north, where the stone houses stood like broken teeth against the sky, down to the lowlands where the mist lay thick and gray. My...

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