The Pale Circus
Elara’s left hand was buried in the wet mortar, the trowel vibrating against her palm as she tried to force a loose limestone block back into the cellar wall. The stone did not stay. It slid inward, pulling the surrounding masonry with it, a slow, grinding contraction that defied the static load calculations she had spent the week verifying. The air in the basement smelled of wet iron and...
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