The Pale Verdict
The year was 1342, and the rain in the valley did not fall so much as it hung, a grey curtain suffocating the manor of Elias Thorne. Elias was thirty-five, a man of sharp intellect and sharper ambition, serving as the court seer to a duke who valued prophecy more than piety. His wife, Elara, lay in the high bed, her skin taking on the waxy translucence of parchment. It was the Pale Verdict, a...
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