The Pale Garden

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 20:03:17 -

The Pale Garden

The hall smelled of wet wool and burning tallow. You stood in the center of the grand foyer, your boots clicking against the cold slate, the sound sharp and final. Above you, the chandelier hung like a skeletal tree, its crystals catching the light of a hundred candles that flickered in the draft. It was a feast, or it had been. Now the tables were bare, the silver tarnished by the sweat of the...

0 Comments 0 Shares 3 Views 0 Reviews