The Pale Garden

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2026-08-22 06:28:31 -

The Pale Garden

The air in the dispensary did not smell of medicine, but of wet stone and the heavy, cloying sweetness of rotting orchids, a scent that clung to the back of Elara’s throat like a second skin, thick and suffocating, weaving itself into the very fabric of her consciousness until she could no longer distinguish where the institutional sterility ended and the organic decay of her own senses began....

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