The Pale Circus

added blog Literature

2026-08-17 17:31:14 -

The Pale Circus

The banquet hall smells of stale wax and the metallic tang of old blood, a scent that clings to the wool of your uniform like a second skin, heavier with every year that passes. You sit at the head of the long oak table, the surface scarred by decades of forks and fallen swords, and before you lies the ledger, its pages thick with the names of those who have served and those who have been...

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