The Pale Banner

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2026-08-23 00:49:23 -

The Pale Banner

The mist is not a weather; it is a hunger. You stand in the throne room of Oren, the air thick with the scent of wet wool and old stone, and before you hangs the Pale Banner. It is a living thing, woven from the breath of the dead, a translucent sheet of fog that hums with a low, vibrating dread. You are Elias, a scribe of thirty-two years, and your hands tremble as you hold the final treaty,...

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