The Pale Circus
The glass shatters before you even understand why. It is a small, intricate thing, a kaleidoscope of sorts, held in your trembling hands, and it breaks not with a loud crash but with a whisper, a sudden, terrible silence that swallows the noise of the room. You are standing in the center of the circular chamber, the walls lined with tapestries so old they have begun to fade into the shadows,...
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