The Wistful Dinner
The seal broke on the third night of the siege. It did not shatter. It did not crumble under the weight of the battering rams outside. It simply dissolved, like sugar in hot tea, leaving a thin, gray ash on the table. Elias stood before it. His hands were still. The candlelight flickered, casting long, trembling shadows against the stone walls of the Great Hall. He had kept the seal for forty...
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