The Distant Nightmare
The banquet hall smelled of wax and old meat. Miles stood by the window. The glass was cold. Outside, the city hummed. Smoke curled from a thousand chimneys. It was a gray morning. The kind that stuck to the skin. He looked at the floor. The wood was dark. Scratched. A thousand feet had walked here. Generals. Kings. Men who gave orders. Men who died. The floor did not care. It only wore. He...
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