The Wistful Dinner
The banquet hall of the old stone manor, which had once stood on the cliff edge overlooking the churning grey sea, was now a cathedral of dust and silence, its vaulted ceilings lost in a fog so thick and supernatural that it seemed to breathe, curling around the pillars like the tentacles of some deep-sea leviathan that had forgotten how to die. At the head of the long oak table, which...
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