The Pale Circus

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 16:43:04 -

The Pale Circus

The rain tasted of iron. You knew it. You had known it for three days, walking the muddy tracks of the Hollow Vale. Your boots were heavy. The mud sucked at them with a wet, greedy sound. Each step was a small death. You pulled your cloak tighter. The wool was damp. It clung to your skin like a second, colder body. You were the Warden. You wore the iron mask. It was cold against your face. It...

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