The Pale Door
The road into the Pale Kingdom was not a path but a scar, a jagged tear in the earth where the green world ended and the grey began. Elias Thorne walked with a heavy step, his boots sinking into the mud that clung to him like a second skin, the cold air biting at his exposed neck. He was forty years old, a scribe by trade and a coward by nature, and he carried in his pack only a flask of water,...
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