The Pale Bonsai
You arrive at the palace gates with a suitcase that hums, a low, electric vibration that rattles the teeth of the stone lions flanking the entrance. You are Dr. Arthur Penhaligon, a man who has spent thirty years studying the architecture of silence, and you are here to catalogue the final hours of the Duke. The Duke is not dead. The Duke is merely forgotten, a ghost pinned to the walls of a...
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