The Pale Garden
The fire did not begin with a spark, but with a whisper of sulfur that smelled of old copper and burnt hair. It started in the highest tower of Blackwood Manor, a place where the wind howled through the cracks in the mortar like a mourner with no grave to tend. Elias Thorne stood before the window, his fingers tracing the cold iron of the railing, feeling the heat already licking at the back of...
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