The Pale Exile

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2026-08-24 08:23:25 -

The Pale Exile

The rain in Harrowgate did not fall so much as it hung, a grey, industrial mist that clung to the soot-stained brickwork of the Vane estate and seeped into the bones of the house, turning the air in the study into a damp, heavy thing that smelled of old paper and decay. Arthur Vane, forty years old and carrying the stiff, deliberate gait of a man who had spent two decades in the cavalry before...

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