The Pale Protocol
14 March, 1342. The ink is still wet on the parchment when my hand trembles, a betrayal of the flesh that the spirit refuses to acknowledge. I am Thomas Bradshaw, twenty-five years of age, and I have sworn the Oath of the Pale, binding my soul to the silver seals that hang in the vaults beneath the abbey. My brother Julian sits in the debtors’ prison below, his breath ragged through the stone,...
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