The Pale Garden

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2026-08-22 21:31:23 -

The Pale Garden

The coal dust did not settle. It swirled around Arthur Vane’s head in the suffocating dark of the shaft, a thick, grey fog that tasted of iron and old blood. He was thirty years old, though the ache in his joints felt ancient, a deep, grinding pain that had nothing to do with the physical weight of the pickaxe he no longer held. His only desire, a burning, singular need that eclipsed the cold...

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