The Distant Journey
The banquet hall smelled of roasted boar and damp wool, a thick, suffocating perfume that clung to the skin like a second coat. It was a feast for the eyes, or so the lords claimed, but for Elara Vane, it was a cage of gold and shadow. She sat at the end of the long table, her fingers wrapped tightly around a goblet of dark ale, watching the light from the tallow candles flicker against the...
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