The Wistful Petal

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2026-08-19 00:20:03 -

The Wistful Petal

The banquet hall of the estate did not smell of roasted pheasant or spiced wine, as the invitations had promised, but of wet limestone and the metallic tang of old blood that seemed to seep up through the cracks in the marble floor. Captain Elias Thorne stood at the periphery of the room, his uniform immaculate, the brass buttons catching the flickering light of a hundred tallow candles that...

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