The Pale Circus

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2026-08-19 01:03:17 -

The Pale Circus

The wind did not blow so much as it gnawed, a cold, skeletal mouth biting through the wool of his coat and the flimsy skin of his cheeks, as Caelan stood amidst the shattered remnants of the great oak that had once marked the boundary of the village, a tree whose roots had held the earth together for three centuries but which had finally, in the night, snapped under the weight of a storm that...

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