The Pale Meridian

added blog Literature

2026-08-21 18:25:48 -

The Pale Meridian

The iron gate groaned, a sound like a dying beast, as Eleanor stood before it, her fingers white-knuckled around the hilt of a dagger that felt heavier than lead. The air in the courtyard was thick, suffocating, smelling of wet stone and the metallic tang of old blood. Across the square, beneath the arched portico where the shadows pooled like ink, stood Lord Blackwood. He did not look at her....

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