The Pale Garden
The letter lay on the desk, the ink still wet and black as a bruise. You read it twice, the paper trembling slightly in your grip, the words blurring into a meaningless scrawl before sharpening again. *Resignation accepted. Effective immediately.* It was signed by Mrs. Gable, the headmistress of St. Jude’s Academy, her signature a sharp, angular cut across the bottom. You were Elias Thorne,...
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