The Pale Garden

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2026-08-22 21:12:00 -

The Pale Garden

The parchment lay flat on the oak table, the ink still wet and glistening like a fresh wound. I traced the lines with my finger, feeling the dampness seep into the skin, and watched the loop of the signature blur into a smudge. It was a deed of transfer, simple enough, but the weight of the silver chain around my neck pulled at my collar, a cold, heavy pressure that had become so constant I had...

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