The Pale Banner

added blog Literature

2026-08-22 02:06:16 -

The Pale Banner

The dream tasted of iron and wet wool. Cillian woke. The tent was cold. Rain hammered the canvas. A rhythm. A drum. His heart beat to match it. He sat up. His joints screamed. Old pain. Deep pain. The kind that lives in the bone. Not new. He was the Keeper of the Words. That was his title. Not a king. Not a warrior. Just the man who remembered. The man who carried the weight of names. Of laws....

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