The Pale Circus
The cell block was quiet, save for the low, grinding hum of the Stone Choir, a geological entity embedded in the floor that vibrated through the soles of my boots and up into my teeth. I was Elara, thirty-two years old, a court scribe who had spent the last six months in the Debt of Silence, a prison sentence for a crime I did not commit, and the only thing keeping me from madness was the...
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