The Pale Circus

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2026-08-25 21:23:14 -

The Pale Circus

The charcoal snapped between Elias Thorne’s thumb and forefinger, leaving a grey smear on the vellum that he scrubbed away with a rag dampened by spit. He did not look up at the High Warden, who stood in the doorway of the cartography tent, his cloak heavy with the condensation of the Aethelgard mist. Elias’s left wrist throbbed, a dull, rhythmic ache that had become the metronome of his days....

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