The Pale Protocol
The letter smells of damp wool and old blood. You hold it in your hands. Your fingers are stiff. The cold is in the walls. The cold is in the stone. You are in the cell. It is small. It is dark. The door is iron. The bars are thick. You look at the paper. It is yellow. The ink is brown. You read the words. You know them. They are simple. They are final. They will not let you go. The Council has...
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