The Pale Door

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2026-08-23 08:37:06 -

The Pale Door

The silver key was cold in my hand, colder than the iron bars of the gate I had held for twelve years. I stood before the Pale Door, the wood so white it seemed to bleed light into the shadowed corridor of the Oakhaven Keep. My wife, Elara, lay in the tower room above, her breath a shallow rattle in the night air. The wasting sickness had taken her color, her strength, and now, if I did not...

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