The Pale Garden

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2026-08-22 05:20:37 -

The Pale Garden

The banquet hall of the old mill was a cavern of dust and forgotten echoes, lit by the flickering, sickly glow of gas lamps that sputtered in the drafts coming through the broken windows. Elias stood at the head of the long table, his hands resting on the mahogany, feeling the cold grain of the wood beneath his fingers. He was a man carved from the same timber as the room, angular and weary,...

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