The Pale Door
The letter lay on the table, the ink still wet, the paper trembling under the weight of the silence in the room. It was a simple note, signed by the village elder, stating that the fever had taken hold of the healer and that no one else knew the cure for the rot. I read it three times, my eyes burning, the words blurring into a single, jagged line of doom. Outside, the wind howled through the...
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