The Wistful Ashes

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2026-08-20 08:58:19 -

The Wistful Ashes

The feast in the Hall of the Silver Loom was not a celebration of joy but a liturgy of consumption, where the air hung heavy with the scent of roasted goose and the damp, metallic tang of fear that permeated the very stones of the ancient building. Margaret stood at the periphery of the crowded room, her eyes fixed not on the dancing elders or the gleaming goblets passed hand to hand, but on...

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