The Pale Shadows

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2026-08-17 17:56:22 -

The Pale Shadows

The wine was red as a wound that would not close. It pooled in the crystal goblets, reflecting the flickering tallow light of the Great Hall. Lord Alistair sat at the high table, his face a mask of polite boredom, while the lower tables buzzed with the low hum of courtiers and soldiers. He watched a servant pour. The liquid did not spill. It did not splash. It moved with a viscosity that seemed...

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