The Pale Door

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2026-08-22 13:45:14 -

The Pale Door

The map was held in my hands, the paper brittle and yellowed by the damp air of the barracks, its edges frayed like the leather of a well-used saddle. I had been dreaming of the door again, that pale, unpainted wooden slab standing alone in a field of white nothingness, and when I woke with the taste of iron in my mouth, the map was already there on the floor, slipped under the door by some...

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