The Pale Door
The cold does not just touch you. It enters. It settles in the marrow of your bones and waits for the sun to fail. You stand before the Great Hall of the Citadel. The stone is old. It has seen emperors rise and crumble. It has seen wars that ended worlds and wars that began them. You are a soldier. You are a warden of the threshold. Your duty is simple. Keep the door closed. Keep the dark out....
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