The Pale Door
The frost had not merely settled upon the heather; it had invaded the very marrow of the world, a silent, crystalline siege that turned the ancient, wind-scoured moor into a labyrinth of brittle light and absolute, crushing silence. I walked with the heavy, rhythmic cadence of a man whose legs had forgotten how to yield to the softness of life, each step a deliberate act of war against the...
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