The Faded Apartment
The fire that consumed the royal tapestries in the Great Hall was not a sudden thing, but a slow, hungry eating of the velvet, a process you watched from the shadowed balcony with a stillness that felt less like fear and more like the holding of a breath that had been suspended for a century. The smoke rose in thick, grey columns, smelling of burnt wool and old blood, and as the flames licked...
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