The Pale Echo

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2026-08-23 10:38:46 -

The Pale Echo

The count of the dead reached forty-three by the time the sun cleared the eastern wall, a number I tallied in my head as I scrubbed the vomit from the stone floor of the quarantine wing. The smell was thick, a cloying mix of rot and stale incense that clung to the back of the throat, making it hard to draw air without gagging. I was Thomas Bradshaw, an inquisitor of the Order, and I had come to...

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