The Mourning Gala

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2026-06-18 09:46:02 -

The Mourning Gala

The fog of November clung to the cobblestones of London like a damp shroud, muffling the distant clatter of hansom cabs. Inside the Sterling estate, the air was thick with the scent of beeswax and old money, but for Clara, it felt like the interior of a tomb. She stood by the velvet curtains, her fingers tracing the intricate lace of her gloves, feeling the tremor in her own skin. The gala was...

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