The Wistful Witness
The chandeliers above the banquet hall of Lord Vane’s estate did not merely hang; they presided, a constellation of cold, cut crystal that threw fractured light across the faces of the guests who feasted on roasted pheasant and truffles while you, Thomas, stood in the shadows of the service corridor, your hands trembling not from the chill of the stone walls but from the sheer, crushing weight...
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