The Distant Clue
The banquet hall of the Whitmore estate was not merely a room but a living architecture of decay, its high vaulted ceilings disappearing into a shadow that seemed to breathe with the slow, heavy pulse of centuries. We had gathered there, a constellation of the old families, draped in silks that whispered against the stone floor as we moved, a sea of faces lit by the flickering, amber glow of a...
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