The Pale Dance

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2026-08-19 23:20:46 -

The Pale Dance

The glass was cold against your palm, heavy and jagged, a shard of what had once been a perfect circle. You held it up to the candlelight, and the flame bent in the fractured lens, splitting into three distinct points of gold that danced on the stone floor. It was a piece of your wedding ring. Or rather, a piece of the mirror that had hung above the fireplace in the bridal chamber, a mirror...

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