The Distant Temple
The banquet hall of the Aetherium was not a place of stone or wood, but of suspended light and woven air, a vast, cavernous expanse where the ceiling dissolved into a nebula of slow-moving stars and the floor was a mirror of black glass that reflected not the diners, but their deepest, most unspoken regrets. Margaret sat at the head of a long table made of polished obsidian, her fingers tracing...
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