The Pale Exile

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2026-08-22 15:05:50 -

The Pale Exile

The coat had begun to shed its reality. It was a charcoal wool, heavy and warm, the kind of garment that had served its owner for thirty years, absorbing the damp of northern winters and the dust of dusty libraries. But now, in the grey twilight of the town that existed on the edge of the map, the wool was fraying into mist. Margaret Holloway stood before the mirror in the small, rented room,...

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