The Pale Exile

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2026-08-21 15:31:40 -

The Pale Exile

The bell in the tower of St. Jude’s Orphanage did not ring. It tolled. A heavy, iron sound that vibrated in the teeth of the children huddled in the yard. Arthur Vane stood by the fence, his hands clasped behind his back, watching the dust settle on the cobblestones. He was a man of sixty, his hair thinning to a translucent white, his spine curved by decades of bending over ledgers and life. To...

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