The Wistful Cipher
The banquet hall of the Royal Assay Office smelled of stale wine, roasted pork, and the metallic tang of anxiety. It was a night of high celebration, the kind where the air hangs thick with the heat of bodies and the clinking of silverware against porcelain. In the center of the chaos, Elara Vane sat with her hands folded in her lap, her fingers trembling slightly as she watched the candlelight...
0 Commentarios 0 Acciones 2 Views 0 Vista previa