The Pale Garden

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2026-08-19 08:26:22 -

The Pale Garden

You wake in the damp. The air is thick. It tastes of iron and rot. You are on your knees. Mud clings to your tunic. It is heavy. Cold. You push yourself up. Your joints crack. You are old. You are young. You are both. This is the curse. Or the gift. You do not know. You are a soldier. You know this by the ache in your shoulder. The old wound. The one that never healed. Look around. The hall is...

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