The Distant Legend
The banquet hall in Oakhaven smelled of roasted goose and old wood, a heavy, suffocating warmth that clung to the skin like a damp sheet. It was the annual Harvest Gala, a night when the town’s hierarchy was performed in linen and silver, and everyone knew their place by the way they held their wine glasses. At the center of the room, beneath a chandelier that cast fractured light across the...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima