The Pale Dance

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2026-08-19 00:02:17 -

The Pale Dance

The air in the Hall of Whispers tasted of iron and old dust, a metallic tang that coated the back of Caelen’s throat. He sat upon the high stone bench, his hands clasped tightly over his knees, the leather of his gloves creaking under the strain. Before him, the Great Table was a slab of black granite, veined with white quartz that looked like frozen lightning. At the far end, the Judge sat in...

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