The Pale Garden
The iron gates of St. Jude’s Asylum for the Restless Mind were not merely closed but welded shut by a silence so profound it felt like a physical weight pressing against the eardrums, a heavy, suffocating blanket of dust and decay that had settled over the grounds of Blackwood Hall over the last century and a half, a time period that had stretched and warped like the warped timber of the main...
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