The Pale Bridge
The velvet of the coat was heavy, a dark, suffocating weight that pressed against your shoulders like a physical force. You stood in the antechamber of the High Court, the air thick with the scent of beeswax and old parchment, watching the door swing open. Inside, the light was pale and sterile, washing over the long tables where the Magistrates sat in their rows of black robes. You were not...
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