The Wistful Witness

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2026-08-21 22:55:54 -

The feast was a storm of candlelight and roasted goose, the air thick with the scent of spiced wine and the heavy, humid breath of forty souls packed into the great hall of Blackwood Manor. I sat at the head of the table, my hands resting on the silver rim of my goblet, watching the flames dance against the stone walls. My husband, Julian, sat opposite me, his face a mask of polite exhaustion,...

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