The Pale Letter

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2026-08-23 05:01:42 -

The Pale Letter

The quill felt heavy in my hand, a dead weight of wood and feather that had not cut paper in three days. I held it over the parchment, the tip trembling as it hovered above the blank space, a tiny black needle threatening to pierce the skin of my own sanity. The candle flame guttered in the draft that seeped through the cracks of the stone wall, casting my shadow long and distorted against the...

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