The Golden Harbor
The feast in the Great Hall of Aldermont Castle was not a celebration of joy, but a ritual of containment, a desperate attempt to drown the creeping rot of the world in wine and roasted meats. I sat at the high table, my hands resting upon the oak, still trembling slightly from the exertion of the morning’s hunt, a phantom vibration that reminded me of the jagged crack in the bone beneath the...
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