The Pale Path

added blog Literature

2026-08-22 08:33:09 -

The Pale Path

The mist did not fall; it rose, a thick, gray tide from the valley floor that swallowed the roots of the ancient oaks. I was Silas, forty years old, a man whose flesh had been carved by the wind and the sword, though the sword had been taken from me three days ago by the High Council. They called it excessive zeal. I called it the only thing that had ever kept the dark at bay. Now I was...

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