The Faded Bouquet
The feast was a riot of color and rot, a banquet set upon the damp stone floor of the crypt where the air tasted of iron and old lavender. Candles guttered in the draft, casting long, trembling shadows that danced across the faces of the assembled guild. They were all here, the weavers of the veil, the spinners of the soul, gathered to honor the Master, Aldous Thorne. Aldous stood at the head...
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