The Pale Exile
Chapter One Could a line on the floor truly hold a woman’s entire future in its dim, erratic glow? Karin Zimmermann sat in the cold of the stone cell, her fingers resting on the damp flagstones where the Pale Path traced its faint, sickly circuit. She was thirty-two, and the weight of the order’s prejudice pressed against her temples like a migraine that would not break, a bias she intended to...
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