The Faded Root

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2026-08-19 11:59:53 -

The Faded Root

The feast was a riot of bone and blood, a chaotic sprawl of roasted swan and salted pork that stretched across the long hall of the manor house. We sat on the floor, for chairs were for the dead, and the air was thick with the smell of woodsmoke, unwashed bodies, and the cloying sweetness of overripe apples. I was twenty-three, or perhaps twenty-four; time had become a slippery thing, like...

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