The Wistful Letter
The banquet hall of the Ashworth Estate, a sprawling Victorian monstrosity of dark oak and dust-motes dancing in the shafts of dying afternoon light, was not a place for celebration but for the slow, ceremonial dissection of a soul, and Captain Elias Thorne stood at the center of this gilded cage, his uniform pressed to a severity that betrayed the trembling within his hands, as he watched the...
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