The Faded Bouquet

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2026-08-18 02:29:06 -

The Faded Bouquet

The fever began with the taste of iron and burnt sugar. It coated my tongue, thick and cloying, a taste I had known since childhood. I stood in the hall of the estate, the air still and heavy as water. The chandelier above me did not sway. It hung rigid, a cage of dead bees frozen in amber light. I was Elias. I was the steward. I was the man who polished the silver until it could reflect the...

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