The Pale Letter
The iron spike did not merely pierce Thomas’s shoulder; it seemed to fuse with the bone, a cold, metallic seed taking root in the living flesh as the siege lines of the enemy, a horde of shadowless men clad in the blackened armor of a forgotten age, surged over the crumbling battlements of Blackwood Manor, and in that singular, suspended moment where the air tasted of copper and ancient dust,...
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