The Pale Garden

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2026-08-19 01:30:30 -

The Pale Garden

The banquet hall of St. Jude’s was a cathedral of rot, draped in silk the color of dried blood and illuminated by candles that burned with a cold, blue ferocity. I sat at the head of the table, my uniform immaculate, my hands steady, my mind a white noise of static. The air tasted of copper and stale wine, a metallic tang that coated the back of my throat. I was the Warden, the keeper of the...

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