The Pale Exile

added blog Literature

2026-08-22 08:09:27 -

The Pale Exile

The candle guttered, casting long, shivering shadows across the floorboards of my study, where I sat with the ledger open but my eyes fixed on the iron-bound chest in the corner. I am forty years old, a wool merchant of modest renown in this damp valley, yet I feel like a man drowning in a room full of air. My son, Thomas, lies in the chamber above, his breath a ragged, wet sound that haunts me...

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