The Pale Circus

added blog Literature

2026-08-24 03:31:22 -

The Pale Circus

The lute case rested against my hip like a stone, its leather worn smooth by ten years of wandering, and I stood before the heavy oak doors of Blackwood Manor, the autumn wind biting at my cloak as the scent of roasting meat and woodsmoke drifted out from the hall. I was forty years old, a man whose name, Elias, had been whispered in courtrooms and shouted in taverns, and I wanted nothing more...

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