The Pale Path
The parchment lay flat on the oak table, its edges curling slightly in the dry air of the archive, and Elara held the quill poised above the wax seal, her hand trembling not from fear but from the sheer, exhausting weight of the lie she was about to commit. The document was a simple transfer of assets, a routine entry in the ledger of the Crown’s military procurement, but to the man standing...
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