The Pale Tale

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2026-08-22 21:37:52 -

The Pale Tale

The frost had not yet melted from the cobblestones of Oakhaven when I stood before the heavy oak door of the Guild Hall, my hands trembling not from the cold, but from the weight of the mortar and pestle I clutched against my chest. I was thirty years old, a scribe by trade and a healer by instinct, and I carried within me a method of grinding fever-cure that promised to save the village from...

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