The Wistful Petal
The banquet hall smelled of rotting lilies and ozone. I sat at the head of the table. My hands were trembling. Not from fear. From hunger. The food was cold. Roast duck. Melted chocolate. I did not eat. I watched. The room was a cathedral of glass and steel. City lights bled through the windows like bruised fruit. We were in the tower. The highest point. The eye of the storm. Captain Elias...
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