The Pale Verdict
I woke with the taste of iron and wet ash in my mouth, the air thick with a humidity that felt less like weather and more like a substance, a heavy, breathing thing that pressed against my eardrums and settled in the hollows of my lungs. I was standing in the middle of the Great Hall of the Ashwood Sanatorium, a vast, cathedral-like structure of iron and glass that had once been a textile mill...
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