The Pale Circus

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2026-08-24 18:52:29 -

The Pale Circus

I was halfway up the gangplank when the fog hit me. It did not roll in; it rose, a cold, wet weight that pressed against my chest like a hand. I was thirty years old, and my knees buckled under the sudden density of the air. The ferry to the mainland was the last one out of Aethelgard before the siege lines closed for good, and I held a forged letter of passage in my sweating palm. The paper...

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