The Pale Path

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2026-08-22 12:00:57 -

The Pale Path

The frost came to Blackwood Manor not as a weather event, but as a verdict. I stood at the high window of the steward’s study, my breath fogging the glass, watching the east field where the winter grain should have been a sea of gold, but was instead a stark, skeletal expanse of pale, bone-like stalks. It was the year of our Lord 1348, and I was forty years old, a man who had spent two decades...

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