The Wistful Ashes
The porcelain bowl shattered against the mahogany table, the sound sharp and final in the high-ceilinged dining hall of the Grand Estate. Lord Vane did not look up from his plate as he crushed the remains of the medicinal broth with a heavy silver fork, the liquid splattering across the white linen like blood. Elias, thirty years old and stripped of the title of chef that had once defined his...
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