The Pale Exile

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2026-08-24 06:34:04 -

The Pale Exile

The ink on the parchment was still wet when the seal of the Guild Council was pressed into the wax, a heavy, black disc that smelled of iron and stale incense. Master Alaric, his hands trembling not from age but from the sheer, grinding weight of the rejection, read the words again as if the letters might rearrange themselves into mercy. The Council, in its infinite and cold wisdom, had denied...

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