The Golden Visit
The fire did not begin with a spark, but with a scream that tore through the rafters of the old manor house, a sound so raw and animal it silenced the very wind outside the leaded panes. You stood in the center of the Great Hall, the air thick with the scent of ozone and burnt velvet, watching the shadows peel away from the walls like dead skin. The chandeliers above, heavy with centuries of...
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