The Wistful Dinner
The fog in the lowlands of Kent did not roll in so much as it rose, a thick, grey wool pulled up from the damp earth to suffocate the world. Elara Vane sat alone in her small, stone-walled cottage, the silence of the room pressing against her eardrums like deep water. She was a woman of the old ways, a keeper of secrets that the village of Ashford preferred to forget, and in her lap lay the...
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