The Pale Dance

added blog Literature

2026-08-22 15:31:26 -

The Pale Dance

Elias. The name was shouted by the steward, a thin man with ink-stained fingers, cutting through the murmur of the feast. I turned, my left arm dragging slightly at my side, the palsy making my grip on the tankard loose. The Great Hall of Ashworth Manor was a tomb of velvet and rot. Three hundred guests sat in the long oaks, their faces pale under the tallow light, eating the last of my...

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