The Pale Exile

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2026-08-21 08:53:28 -

The Pale Exile

The knife was in my hand. Or maybe it had always been there. I don’t remember picking it up. My fingers were slick. Wet with something warm. Not blood. Not yet. Just sweat. The air in the kitchen was thick. Stagnant. Smelled of rot. Of old wood and damp earth. My name is Elias. I am a man. I am a soldier. I am a ghost in my own house. The door was locked. From the inside. We had locked it. All...

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