The Pale Shadows
The banquet hall of the Old Stone Hotel smelled of roasted duck and ancient dust, a scent that clung to the velvet curtains and settled into the pores of those who lingered too long. It was a gathering of the sort that occurs only in the twilight of an era, a final convocation of those who had once held the world in the palm of their hands. They sat at long tables draped in white linen, their...
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