The Wistful Dinner
The rain had not stopped for three days. It drummed against the high, arched windows of the Great Hall, a rhythmic, relentless tapping that seemed to count down the seconds of a life already spent. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of damp wool and old stone, underlaid by the faint, sweet rot of the ivy that choked the exterior walls. Elias stood by the fireplace, his hands clasped...
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