The Faded Dust

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2026-08-19 00:04:56 -

The Faded Dust

The air in the Great Hall of the St. Jude’s Infirmary tasted of boiled wool, stale wine, and the sharp, metallic tang of old blood. It was a feast, though no one ate. The long oak table, black with the varnish of centuries, sat empty, save for a single, tarnished silver goblet that caught the dim light of the tallow candles and fractured it into dancing, golden shards across the stone floor. In...

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