The Pale Path
The monastery burned with a hunger that consumed the night sky. Elias ran through the smoke, his lungs burning, clutching the glass vial to his chest. The Abbot’s chamber was a skeleton of charred beams, the only witness to the village’s betrayal already ash. Elias was a scribe, a man of ink and parchment, not fire and ruin, yet he fled the ashes with a purpose that felt heavier than stone. He...
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