The Pale Banner
The dream was always the same, a loop of pale silk unraveling against the gray sky. Elias Thorne woke with the taste of ash on his tongue, the residual heat of a fire that had not been lit, and the heavy, suffocating weight of a debt he could not pay. He lay in the narrow cot in the watchman’s quarters, staring at the water-stained ceiling of St. Jude’s Asylum, and counted the days until...
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