The Pale Dance

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2026-08-25 02:37:31 -

The Pale Dance

The long table of oak stretches across the refectory, polished to a mirror sheen that reflects the flickering candlelight and the heavy, solemn faces of the brothers. You sit at the head, Captain Elias Thorne, your spine a rigid rod of iron that has held this monastery’s physical discipline for thirty years. At fifty-two, your knees ache with a dull, persistent fire, a warning signal you have...

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