The Pale Banner

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2026-08-21 16:41:27 -

The Pale Banner

The mud beneath your boots is black and slick, tasting of iron and old blood in your mouth as you taste the air. You are running. Or perhaps you are being carried by a wind that does not blow, a gale that pushes from within your own ribs. The forest around you is not the forest you knew this morning, where the oaks stood silent sentinels over the quiet village of Oakhaven. Here, the trees are...

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