The Pale Dance

added blog Literature

2026-08-21 10:05:26 -

The Pale Dance

The porridge had turned to stone in the bowl, a grey paste that refused to yield to the spoon. Elias sat at the heavy oak table, his hands wrapped around the ceramic vessel, feeling the cold seep into his palms. He was a man of the Guard, a title that meant little in the village of Oakhaven, where the mist clung to the cobblestones like a shroud. He watched the steam rise from the broth, thin...

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