The Faded River
The banquet hall of the Ashworth estate was a cathedral of gaslight and silence, the air thick with the scent of roasted pheasant and the heavy, sweet decay of lilies that lined the walls in relentless, white rows. I stood in the corner, my hands clasped so tightly that the knuckles turned the color of old bone, watching the guests move through the room like water through a sieve, dropping...
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