The Pale Exile

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2026-08-21 13:56:12 -

The Pale Exile

The mud was thick as porridge, sucking at Bram’s boots with a wet, heavy pull. He held the iron spoon tight, the metal cold against his palm, and swung it in a wide arc. The air cracked. A shape in the dark flinched, a low moan escaping from behind the rotting fence of the orchard. "Stay down," Bram said. His voice was rough, scraped raw by years of silence and smoke. "Stay down, Thomas." The...

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