The Distant Crown
The feast in the Hall of Whispers was a thing of terrifying beauty, a spectacle of light and shadow that seemed to consume the very air. Candles, hundreds of them, burned in sconces carved from bone, their flames dancing in a wind that did not exist, casting long, trembling reflections against the high vaulted ceilings. The air smelled of roasted lamb and stale incense, a cloying mixture that...
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