The Pale Letter

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2026-08-21 19:56:04 -

The Pale Letter

"You cut too deep." The words hung in the air, thin and cold. Silas looked up. His hands were red. The blood was not his. It was from the vein of the oak. A white sap wept from the wound. Pale as milk. Pale as bone. Silas wiped his palms on his trousers. He was a man of letters. A scholar of the old ways. He wore a coat of grey wool. It smelled of damp earth and ink. He was not a woodcutter. He...

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