The Pale Exile
The tower stood. It was stone. Grey. Cold. I dreamed of it again. The spire pierced the clouds. I was climbing. My hands were raw. The wind screamed. I remembered the oath. I remembered the blood. I woke. The room was dark. The candle guttered. I was in the Hall. The great hall of the Order. It was not a home. It was a machine. It was a cage. The floor was black marble. It reflected my face. A...
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