The Pale Bridge

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2026-08-20 15:00:02 -

The Pale Bridge

The iron gate was already open. That was the first wrong thing. Margaret stood on the wet cobblestones of the bridge, her hand trembling on the cold metal bar. It should have been locked. It was always locked. The fog rolled in from the river below, thick and white, swallowing the city of Oakhaven in a silent, suffocating embrace. She was wet. Her dress, a heavy wool thing she had never once...

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