The Pale Banner
The feast was not held in a hall, nor was it marked by the clinking of crystal or the heavy scent of roasted meats, but rather by the shimmering, impossible density of light that pooled on the floor like spilled mercury, and the low, resonant hum that vibrated in the marrow of every bone present. In this place, which defied the geometry of the world beyond its gilded and fractured edges, time...
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