The Pale Dance
Chapter One Did the stone know what it was doing, or was it merely the heat of a dying fire? Asim Sial held the small, warm rock in his palm as he walked away from the village, the frost killing the late beans in the fields behind him. He was thirty years old, a warrior by trade, yet he carried no sword, only this pulsing weight that felt like a second heartbeat against his skin. The Imperial...
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