The Pale Dance

added blog Literature

2026-08-23 08:17:34 -

The Pale Dance

The iron gauntlet was cold, the rust flaking onto Elias’s palm like dry skin. He sat on the wet stone of the rampart, the city of Avelon stretching out below him in the dying light of the autumn evening, the air thick with the smell of woodsmoke and unwashed bodies. At thirty, Elias Vane had served twelve years in the King’s Guard, a period of time long enough to wear a man down to the bone,...

0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews