The Golden Visit
The morning light did not break the horizon so much as it seeped through the heavy, velvet curtains of the Grand Hall, a slow, viscous intrusion that pooled on the polished oak floor like spilled honey, illuminating the dust motes that danced in the stagnant air with a frantic, microscopic vitality that stood in stark, terrible contrast to the absolute stillness of the man who stood before the...
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