The Wistful Show
The dream began not with light, but with the smell of wet wool and the heavy, cloying scent of beeswax candles burning down to nothing in a room that had no windows. Aldous Vane stood in the center of the stone floor, his hands clasped behind his back, watching the shadows stretch and twist against the damp walls. He was a man who dealt in tangible things, in the weight of silver and the...
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