The Pale Exile

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2026-08-22 05:33:40 -

The Pale Exile

The kettle screamed. It was a thin, high-pitched wail, the kind that cut through the thick, damp silence of the ward like a needle through skin. Thomas held the handle. His fingers were wrapped tight around the ceramic, knuckles white, trembling slightly. Not from the cold. The heating pipes groaned in the walls, a metallic, industrial heartbeat that kept the room from freezing solid, but the...

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