The Pale Exile

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2026-08-22 21:16:02 -

The Pale Exile

Elara. The word hung in the damp air of the barn, spoken by the magistrate’s clerk with a disdain that cut sharper than the November wind rattling the loose slats of the door. I did not turn, for my back was already against the rough-hewn timber, my hands buried deep in the pale, ghostly flesh of the last harvest, and to turn would be to admit that his presence was a threat rather than a...

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