The Pale Echo

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2026-08-19 22:09:42 -

The Pale Echo

The banquet hall smelled of rotting oranges and wet wool. You sat at the end of the long oak table, your fingers white-knuckled around a fork. The chandeliers above swayed, though there was no wind. The glass prisms turned the candlelight into fractured rainbows on the floorboards. You watched the light dance. It looked like blood. It looked like memory. Colonel Harrow sat across from you. He...

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