The Pale Exile

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2026-08-24 11:31:58 -

The Pale Exile

The logbook lay open on the desk, its pages stiff with the damp of the November fog, and Colonel Vane’s finger tapped a rhythm against the leather binding that sounded like a hammer striking cold iron. "You have an entry, Sergeant Thorne, at 0300 hours," Vane said, his voice flat and administrative, lacking the heat of anger but carrying the weight of finality. "It reads: 'Figure at the gate....

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