The Pale Bridge
The frost bit through my wool socks as I stood on the central span of the Pale Bridge, the stone cold beneath my boots. I am Aldric, the High Warden, and for forty-two years I have held the key to this ancient stone arch that holds the kingdom’s soul. My daughter, Elara, lay shivering in the keep below, her breath thinning like mist over the river. The bridge whispered to me in the language of...
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