The Pale Banner
Elias Thorne. The name was not a greeting but a summons, barked by the bailiff’s deputy from the street below, a sound that cut through the thin air of the attic like a knife through wet wool. It was a summons for the banner, though the man did not know it yet. Elias stood by the window, his breath pluming in the bitter cold that had settled into the stones of Oakhaven, and watched the deputy’s...
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