The Pale Mist
The chandelier in the grand hall of Ashworth Manor swayed with a heavy, deliberate creak, casting long, wavering shadows against the paneled walls. It was a Tuesday, or perhaps a Wednesday; the days had begun to bleed into one another in the grey light that filtered through the high, narrow windows. You stood at the edge of the dais, holding the silver tray that held the single, untouched cup...
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