The Wistful Crossroads

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2026-08-18 01:39:46 -

The feast begins with the smell of rendered fat and old wood, a thick, cloying aroma that settles into the pores of your skin like a second, heavier layer of clothing. You stand at the edge of the long oak table, your hands trembling slightly as you arrange the silverware, the clink of the tines against the wood sounding unnaturally loud in the vaulted silence of the hall. The candles have been...

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