The Pale Circus

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2026-08-20 06:04:36 -

The Pale Circus

The road was red dust and broken stone. We walked it. I walked it. The sun beat down like a hammer on an anvil. It was hot. Too hot. My cloak was soaked through. It clung to my skin like a second layer of flesh. I could feel the weight of it. The weight of the years. The weight of the choice I had made. We were moving toward the keep. Or what was left of it. It sat on the hill like a broken...

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