The Pale Meridian

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2026-08-19 08:33:47 -

The Pale Meridian

The hall burned with tallow and ambition. The air was thick, a physical weight pressing against the lungs, smelling of roasted pork, wet wool, and the sharp, metallic tang of fear. I stood in the shadows of the vaulted ceiling, a servant among servants, my hands clasped tight to hide their trembling. Below us, the Duke of Avelon held court. He was a small man, precise in his movements, his eyes...

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