The Pale Circus

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2026-08-18 07:51:59 -

The Pale Circus

The wood of the wheelhouse was old, smelling of damp resin and the metallic tang of blood that had long since dried into the grain, yet it held a strange, vibrating hum that I could feel in my teeth whenever the wind died down. I had been the keeper of this place for forty years, a lowly warden of a structure that no map acknowledged and no traveler wanted to enter, perched on the edge of a...

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