The Pale Dance

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2026-08-24 00:21:32 -

The Pale Dance

The fog in Oakhaven did not rise from the ground so much as it bled out of the cobblestones, a thick, gray sludge that smelled of wet ash and old iron. Sergeant Elias Thorne stood at the head of the Night Watch formation, his breath pluming in the cold air, his eyes fixed on the silhouette of the old mill where the Pale Wraith was said to dwell. He was thirty years old, a man carved from the...

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