The Golden Visit
The wine was the color of dried blood, thick and viscous as it swirled in the crystal goblets, catching the firelight in a way that suggested something living, something that breathed and pulsed with a slow, deliberate rhythm, and I watched it, this deep crimson tide, while the laughter of the lords and ladies of the manor echoed off the high, vaulted ceilings of the great hall, a sound that...
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