The Pale Garden

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2026-08-23 12:49:48 -

The Pale Garden

The parchment lay flat on the stone table, its edges curling slightly in the damp air of the scriptorium, a list of grievances written in the cramped, iron-gall ink of Brother Thomas. Elara read the words three times, her breath held tight in her chest, before she folded the paper and slid it into the leather satchel at her hip. The ink smelled of rust and decay, a sharp metallic tang that cut...

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