The Pale Garden

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2026-08-22 21:21:50 -

The Pale Garden

The fog pressed against the glass like a damp, grey hand. "Is it true, Elias? Do you hear them singing in the walls?" Silas asked, his voice thin, stripped of its usual deference. He stood in the doorway of the scriptorium, a young man of twenty who looked thirty in the dim light, his face pale as the parchment he was meant to be copying. You tried to steady your voice, but the tremor in your...

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