The Pale Circus

added blog Literature

2026-08-18 03:19:06 -

The Pale Circus

The frost had not yet melted from the cobbles of the old chapel square. Margaret stood by the gate, her breath pluming in the cold air. She held the keys to the sanctuary in her fist, the metal biting into her palm. Beside her, the great stone rose, its windows shattered, its doors hanging open to the winter sky. It was not a church anymore. It was a cage that had burst its bars. She had come...

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