The Pale Circus

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2026-08-19 00:08:48 -

The Pale Circus

The feast was a thing of terrible and holy abundance, the tables groaning under the weight of roasted boar and honeyed figs, the air thick with the cloying scent of rosewater and the sweat of a hundred bodies pressed together in the dim, vaulted hall of the King’s court. You sat there, a small figure in a tunic of roughspun wool, your hands trembling not from cold but from the sheer,...

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