The Pale Exile

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2026-08-21 09:01:08 -

The Pale Exile

I woke with the taste of copper on my tongue. It was a heavy, metallic taste. Like blood. Like rust. I opened my eyes. The ceiling was low. Beams of dark oak crossed overhead. They were stained with years of soot. I was in a cellar. Or a basement. The air was thick. It smelled of damp earth and old bread. I sat up. My joints clicked. They were stiff. I was old. My hands were rough. The skin was...

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