The Pale Garden

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2026-08-18 13:39:26 -

The Pale Garden

The fire did not start with a spark, but with a scream. It tore through the night air of the manor, a sound so raw and jagged it shattered the silence that had held the household in a cold, brittle grip for months. Margaret stood by the window, her fingers white-knuckled against the iron bars, watching the flames lick at the lower gallery. The air smelled of charred oak and old blood. Below, in...

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