The Pale Garden

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2026-08-21 18:33:11 -

The Pale Garden

The air in the sanctuary of Saint Jude’s was thick with the scent of damp stone and burning tallow, a heavy, cloying atmosphere that pressed against the lungs like wet wool. Sir Thomas Bradshaw stood at the center of the nave, his armor polished to a mirror sheen, the steel reflecting the flickering flames of a dozen hundred candles. He did not see his own face in the metal; he saw only the...

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