The Pale Garden

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2026-08-18 15:09:32 -

The Pale Garden

The banquet hall of the Ashworth estate smelled of damp wool and extinguished candles, a heavy, cloying scent that clung to the lungs like a second skin. It was a Tuesday in November, the kind of day where the sky hung low and gray over the industrial outskirts of Manchester, pressing down on the slate roofs until the house seemed to be sinking into the earth. Colonel Silas Vane sat at the head...

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