The Pale Path

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2026-08-22 03:10:35 -

The Pale Path

The banquet hall smelled of roasted lamb and old dust. I sat at the head of the table. My hands trembled. Not from cold. From age. The crystal glasses caught the chandelier light. They spun slow halos. Gold. Amber. Red. I watched them. I did not drink. I could not. The wine tasted of iron in my mouth. Always now. Margaret sat beside me. Her white hair was a halo. Her eyes were sharp. She looked...

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