The Golden Ritual
The feast was not a celebration of abundance, but of exhaustion. In the high, vaulted halls of Aethelgard, where the air tasted of old stone and ozone, the nobles ate roasted boar and drank wine that ran red as arterial blood. Elara sat at the far end of the table, her hands folded in her lap, watching the candlelight flicker against the shadows. She was an exile, a woman who had crossed the...
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