The Pale Circus

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2026-08-20 15:29:27 -

The Pale Circus

The rain fell in sheets of iron, drumming against the high, vaulted ceilings of the Great Hall, a sound that was less like weather and more like the grinding of ancient bones. I stood at the foot of the dais, my hands bound by chains that were not of metal but of duty, my eyes fixed on the figure of King Aldous who sat upon the throne of white oak. The air in the chamber was thick, stale with...

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