The Pale Verdict
The mist did not lift; it merely thickened, a grey woolen shroud that swallowed the spires of the High Court and blurred the edges of the world until only the immediate, suffocating air remained. Margaret stood alone in the antechamber, her fingers tracing the cold, damp stone of the pillar, feeling the vibration of the unseen machinery that drove the kingdom’s heart. She was a woman of quiet...
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