The Pale Garden

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2026-08-20 04:17:07 -

The Pale Garden

The iron gauntlet sits on the table before you, its leather lining worn soft as skin by years of gripping. You do not touch it. To touch it is to acknowledge the weight, and the weight is the war. You are in the Hall of Whispers, a vaulted chamber deep within the keep of Blackwood, where the air tastes of damp stone and old blood. The walls are lined with portraits of your ancestors, their eyes...

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