The Pale Garden
The rain did not fall so much as it insisted, a cold, gray curtain that blurred the jagged skyline of the city into a smear of wet charcoal and steel. Elias stood in the center of the narrow, cobblestone alley, his back pressed against the damp brickwork, breathing in short, ragged hitches that tasted of iron and rot. Before him, the crowd was not merely watching; they were feeding. It was a...
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