The Pale Bonsai

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2026-08-22 07:37:28 -

The Pale Bonsai

The dampness of the Obsidian Citadel did not smell of stone or decay, but of boiled root and copper, a thick, medicinal fog that clung to the skin like a second layer of flesh. Sergeant Elias Thorne stood in the antechamber, his eyes fixed on the itchy, raised bump on the inside of his left wrist, a small, pale knot of flesh that had appeared only an hour after he had last sipped the court’s...

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