The Pale Door

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2026-08-21 16:14:18 -

The Pale Door

The air in the Hall of Whispers tasted of copper and old rain. It was thick, a physical weight pressing against my lungs. I stood at the center of the dais, the stone cold beneath my boots. Around me, the assembly waited. They were tall, their forms elongated by the strange, fractured light that bled through the crystal spires above. They did not speak. They did not need to. I could feel their...

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