The Pale Garden

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2026-08-18 09:58:15 -

The Pale Garden

The house breathed. That was the only way I knew how to describe it. Not a creak, not a settle, but a rhythmic, tidal expansion of the plaster and oak, a slow inhalation of the damp air from the moors that pressed against the windows of Ashworth Hall. I had lived here for three years with Elias, and in three years, I had never once heard him breathe while he slept. He was a man of stillness, a...

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