The Pale Verdict
The banquet hall smelled of ozone and wet wool. It was a strange place, this hall, built not of stone or wood but of suspended light and the hum of server racks that had no power source. We sat at long tables that curved like the ribs of a leviathan. The food was grey and tasteless, served on plates that seemed to absorb the light from the chandeliers. I was twelve. I wore a suit that had been...
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