The Pale Exile

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2026-08-24 07:43:04 -

The Pale Exile

The count of the candles in the Abbot’s office was precise: three, their wax pooled and hardened into jagged mountains on the brass sconces. Elara stood before the desk, her hands trembling not from cold, but from the sheer weight of the silence that followed her request. She had asked for a transfer to the northern outpost, a place so remote the maps barely marked it, and Abbot Silas had...

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