The Pale Garden
The chandelier in the Great Hall of Blackwood Manor did not shine so much as it bled light, a cold, surgical luminescence that stripped the color from the silk drapes and turned the faces of the guests into masks of wax and polite, terrified anticipation. I stood at the edge of the marble floor, my uniform crisp, my badge heavy against my ribs like a second heart, and I watched the room...
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