The Distant Blade

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2026-08-18 17:18:13 -

The Distant Blade

The banquet hall smelled of roasted pheasant and old money. It was a thick scent, heavy on the tongue, like the air before a storm. Margaret stood at the head of the table. She wore a dress the color of dried blood. Her hands were still. They were always still. The guests murmured. They were loud tonight. The laughter was too sharp. It cut the air. Margaret looked at her husband. Thomas sat...

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