The Pale Meridian

added blog Literature

2026-08-24 09:29:59 -

The Pale Meridian

Act I My hands were buried in the damp wool of the shroud, pulling the knot tight against the coffin maker’s rough-hewn wood, when the smell hit me. It was burnt sugar, sharp and sweet, rising from the folds of the cloth like heat from a stove. I paused, my fingers cramping, and looked at the ledger open on the crate beside me. The pages were unmarked, blank save for the faint ghost of previous...

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