The Pale Path
The Pale Path The lane behind St. Mary's Church had no name on any map. It began where the cobblestones ended and something older took over—cracked flagstone worn smooth by centuries of feet, some clerical, some penitent, most neither. The path did not announce itself. It merely waited, pale as bone, beneath the overhanging eaves of buildings that had forgotten their own purposes. Elias Marsh...
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