The Pale Shadows
Elias, you wretch, do you not hear me calling? The voice of my brother, Thomas, had already faded into the screaming wind of the city gates, but the name still hung in the air, sharp as a blade. I did not turn back. I could not afford the luxury of looking at the faces of the men I was leaving behind, men who coughed blood into their hands and sold their wives’ rings for a crust of stale bread....
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