The Pale Circus
You are standing in the center of the Hall of Mirrors, your hand steady on the hilt of your ceremonial sword, the leather grip slick with sweat despite the chill in the air. The gilded frames stretch endlessly up the walls, reflecting a thousand versions of you, each one waiting for the next beat of your heart. You are Elias Thorne, Captain of the Royal Guard, and in six hours you will execute...
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