The Distant Nightmare

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 01:56:52 -

The banquet hall smelled of roasted boar and wet wool. Candles guttered in the iron sconces, casting long, trembling shadows against the stone walls. Lord Aldous sat at the high table, his face a mask of bored dignity. His son, Julian, sat three places down. Julian was twenty years old. He had the look of a man who had already seen too much. His hands were still. They were always still. Even...

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