The Pale Door
The hearth in the great hall of Blackwood Manor burned with a ferocity that seemed to devour the very air, casting long, dancing shadows across the stone walls where the tapestries hung like silent witnesses to a century of silence. It was a feast night, the kind reserved for the turning of the seasons, where the table groaned under the weight of roasted boar, wildfowl, and loaves of dark...
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