The Pale Banner
The banquet hall smelled of beeswax and old stone. We sat in a long circle, the light from the chandeliers casting our faces in amber. I held a goblet of red wine, the liquid dark and still as a pupil. My brother, Silas, sat across from me. He did not look at me. He looked at the floor, where the dust motes danced in the slow, indifferent air. "You look pale, Julian," said the Duke. His voice...
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