The Faded Guest

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2026-08-19 21:18:34 -

The Faded Guest

The feast had not begun, but the air already tasted of wax and stale wine. I stood in the shadow of the great oak door, my wrists bound not by rope, but by the invisible, heavy chains of my own making. The house of Lord Ashworth was a beast of stone and silence, and I was its newest prisoner. I was not a guest. I was a penance. They called it the Hall of Whispers, though no one spoke. The...

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