The Pale Bonsai

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2026-08-18 23:41:37 -

The Pale Bonsai

The iron gate groaned. It was a sound like a dying man clearing his throat. You pushed through the bars, your boots heavy with the mud of the courtyard. The air tasted of rust and old stone. You are the Keeper. Your uniform is stiff. Your spine is a rod of steel. You have come to the Palace of Whispers. They call it a prison. You call it a duty. Inside, the halls are long. They stretch into the...

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