The Pale Garden
The iron gate of the East Wing shrieks against its rusted hinges, a sound like a bone snapping in the cold night air, and you, Elias, thirty-four and senior warden of the Blackwood Asylum, stand before the locked door with a stolen key in your hand, your breath pluming in the damp October fog that clings to the stone walls of the institution. You have come here not for duty, but for Thomas,...
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