The Golden Song
The banquet hall of the Royal Sanatorium for the Mentally Infirm was a cathedral of white marble and suspended chandeliers, the air thick with the scent of roasted pheasant and the faint, underlying odor of antiseptic that no amount of lavender could fully mask. Elara Vane sat at the head of the long table, her silver hair pulled back severely, her eyes fixed on the Director, Silas Vane, who...
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