The Pale Protocol
The iron key sat on the table, cold and unyielding, a sliver of rusted metal that mirrored the brittle state of my own resolve. I am thirty-two, and the stone walls of Vael Keep press in against me, a prison of my own making and my father’s legacy. I need the estate. I need the proof that the testament is valid. Silas, the steward, has locked the archive, claiming legal maneuvering, but he does...
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