The Pale Letter

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2026-08-23 01:51:14 -

The Pale Letter

The autumn air in Oakhaven tasted of copper and wet ash. I arrived on the fourteenth of September, my satchel heavy with vellum and my heart heavy with the weight of a dead man’s seal. Master Aldric had been my teacher, my father in all but blood, and his passing left a void in my chest that no amount of ink could fill. I had come to transcribe the final wills of the dying, a commission from...

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