The Faded Guest
The banquet hall of the manor at Hollow Creek smelled of roasting pork, stale ale, and the thick, cloying perfume of lilies that had been crushed into the floorboards by the boots of a hundred guests who had come to celebrate the survival of the old lord, a survival that was, in the minds of the villagers, less a triumph of flesh and more a stubborn refusal of the grave, a refusal that echoed...
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