The Pale Tale
Act I "You are certain of the dosage?" Oyalu Acheron asked, his voice flat against the heavy silence of the chamber. The air smelled of wet stone and old blood, a scent that clung to the mismatched pews of the chapel annex where the King lay. "I am certain of your obedience," Kaelen the advisor replied, his eyes fixed on the white root pulsing in Oyalu’s hand. It was a thick, pale thing, cold...
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