The Pale Garden

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2026-08-19 17:47:06 -

The Pale Garden

The carriage wheels groaned against the cobblestones, a rhythmic, grinding complaint that matched the ache in Sir Edward’s joints. The fog was thick, a living thing that swallowed the gaslights of the old town and reduced the world to a gray, suffocating nothingness. Inside the carriage, the air smelled of damp wool and the sharp, metallic tang of the fever that had taken hold of his wife,...

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