The Pale Bonsai

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2026-08-22 09:05:20 -

The Pale Bonsai

The rain fell not as water but as a fine, gray mist that clung to the stones of the keep, dampening the marrow of my bones until I could no longer distinguish the cold from the fear that had settled into my muscles like rust in an old hinge. I stood in the center of the great hall, the air thick with the scent of wet wool, iron, and the faint, sweet rot of the lilies that lined the altar, their...

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