The Pale Garden

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2026-08-19 21:29:46 -

The Pale Garden

The coat was red. Not the dull, earthy red of dried blood, but a violent, screaming crimson that seemed to pulse against the grey stone of the Hall. Elias had worn it for forty years. It had been his father’s, then his. Now it clung to him like a second skin, worn thin at the elbows, frayed at the cuffs, the wool pilled into grey clouds. He loved it. He hated it. He could not sleep without it....

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