The Pale Garden

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2026-08-20 14:59:33 -

The Pale Garden

The furnace coughed. Steam hissed. The iron gate groaned shut. Silence. Then the ringing in the ears. Silas Vane stood in the center of the foundry floor. Dust motes danced in the shaft of grey light cutting through the high windows. He was still. His hands hung at his sides. They were thick. Knuckled. Covered in a fine layer of soot. He did not blink. The air was thick. It tasted of metal. Of...

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