The Pale Meridian

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2026-08-23 18:37:09 -

The Pale Meridian

The air in the Great Hall tasted of iron and stale wine, a metallic tang that coated the back of Elias Thorne’s throat as he sat among the feast. Around him, the other soldiers of the Order drank deep from clay cups, their laughter dull and rhythmic, like the grinding of millstones in the distance. Elias did not drink. His hand, encased in a heavy iron gauntlet that had belonged to his brother,...

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