The Wistful Dinner
The ink did not dry so much as it settled, a heavy, dark sediment that seemed to pull the very air of the study into its depths, and it was there, in the silence that followed the scratching of the quill, that Sir Elias Thorne realized he had once again confused the map for the territory, a mistake he had made so often in his life that it had become the texture of his skin, the grain of his...
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