The Wistful Dinner

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2026-08-20 09:53:15 -

The rain fell on the roof of the manor like a thousand small hands trying to wipe away a stain that would not lift. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of wet wool and old stone, a heavy, suffocating blanket that pressed against the lungs. Thomas Bradshaw stood in the center of the great hall, his hands clasped behind his back, watching the fire. The flames licked at the oak logs, casting...

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