The Pale Garden

added blog Literature

2026-08-17 18:27:39 -

The Pale Garden

The banquet hall of the Sterling Institute smelled of roasted pheasant and floor wax, a scent that Margaret had come to associate with the specific, metallic taste of blood in her own mouth. She sat at the far end of the long mahogany table, her hands folded neatly over the white linen, the knuckles white as the porcelain plates before her. Across from her, Director Thorne was laughing, a low,...

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