The Distant Promise
The feast was a wound in the dark. Candles burned low on the high table. Wax pooled like blood. We ate in silence. The meat was salted pork. Heavy. Cold now. The lord, Sir Cedric, carved a leg. His knife was sharp. He did not look at me. He looked at the wall. The stone was old. The stones watched. I am a prisoner. I am a sinner. I know this. My name is Elias. I was the cook. I am now the...
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