The Pale Garden

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2026-08-19 15:10:41 -

The Pale Garden

The road to Blackwood Manor was a ribbon of mud that tightened around the wheels of Thomas Hale’s carriage. Rain lashed the glass. It did not fall; it struck. Thomas held the reins with white knuckles. He was not a farmer. He was not a merchant. He was a Warden of the Old Order, a man who kept the silence between the living and the dead. But the rain was loud tonight. It sounded like tearing...

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