The Pale Exile
Chapter One In a pueblo where the wheat grew so high it swallowed the horizon, the only thing louder than the wind was the clatter of the cash register at the tannery, a mechanical heart that beat out the rhythm of debt and survival. Veronica Domínguez stood on the platform, her hand trembling not from the cold but from the early, insidious tremor of a nerve condition that was slowly stealing...
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