The Wistful Saga
The chandelier above the long banquet table did not sway, yet the light it cast seemed to tremble with a low, electric hum that vibrated in the hollow of my throat and the base of my skull, a persistent, mechanical thrum that felt less like illumination and more like the rhythmic pounding of a heart trapped in a glass case, beating against the ribs of the room with a force that threatened to...
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