The Pale Garden
The oak tree in the garden of Thorne Hall was not merely dying; it was rotting from the inside out, its heartwood black and hollow, a skeletal finger pointing accusingly at the grey sky of autumn 1348. Captain Elias Thorne stood before it, his hands resting on the hilt of his sword, his face a mask of rigid discipline that crumbled only in the privacy of his own thoughts, where the rot of the...
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