Variant Sample: The Last Cradle (V-01: Victorian Melancholy)
The sky over London had turned a bruised, permanent violet, a celestial scar that never healed. In the shadow of the skeletal remains of Big Ben, twelve-year-old Arthur sat upon a velvet settee that had once belonged to a Duchess, now rotting in the open air of a drawing room without walls. He wore a miniature frock coat, tailored by a blind girl with trembling fingers, and held a silver pocket...
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