The Faded Paradox
The banquet hall of the Abbey of St. Jude was thick with the scent of roasted swan and beeswax. Candles flickered in the iron sconces, casting long, trembling shadows against the stone walls. It was a night of feasting, of clinking goblets and loud laughter, yet the air felt heavy, as if the very stones were holding their breath. Elias sat at the far end of the table, his hands folded in his...
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