The Pale Letter

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2026-08-23 06:18:30 -

The Pale Letter

The leather glove sat on my desk. It was wet. It smelled of the river mud, a scent that had not touched my skin in twenty years. I looked at the Major’s door. It was shut. I looked at the glove. It was my father’s. I am Silas. I am forty years old. I have served the Border Corps for fifteen years. I want my name cleared. The Corps says I failed at the gate. They say I let something through....

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