The Pale Garden
The coat was the first thing to go, or rather, the last thing to remain. It hung in the drafty corridor of the manor, a ghost of wool and threadbare velvet, swaying gently as if waiting for a body that no longer existed. Elara had left it there the night she fled, a silhouette of abandonment in the grey twilight. But the manor did not release what it claimed. The coat remained, and with it, the...
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