The Wistful Mirror

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 10:15:19 -

The banquet hall of the Whitmore estate did not smell of roasting meats or spiced wine, but of damp wool and the metallic tang of old blood. It was a feast of ghosts, a gathering held in the hollowed-out belly of a mansion that had forgotten how to stand upright. Thomas Bradshaw sat at the head of a long table covered in a white cloth that had yellowed with age, his hands resting on the...

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