The Pale Circus

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2026-08-22 13:11:13 -

The Pale Circus

The air in the West Corridor of the Imperial Palace was not merely cold; it was a physical weight, pressing against Elias Thorne’s lungs with the distinct, metallic taste of iron. He stood rigid at his post, his hand wrapped around the hilt of his ceremonial sword, though the true anchor of his existence rested in the other hand, a small, cracked porcelain bird no larger than a sparrow. It was...

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