The Pale Exile

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2026-08-21 17:47:34 -

The Pale Exile

The air in the Hall of Records did not smell of dust, as one might expect of a place so old and so heavy with the weight of forgotten centuries, but rather of wet slate and the sharp, metallic tang of ozone that lingered after a storm, a scent that clung to the back of the throat and refused to be washed away by the cold, thin tea served in chipped porcelain cups by the silent, grey-uniformed...

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