The Wistful Silence

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2026-08-23 11:20:36 -

The feast was a lie, you tell yourself, as you watch the High Warden cut the roast boar with a knife that gleams too brightly in the dim light of the great hall. The smell of roasting fat and stale wine hangs thick in the air, a cloying sweetness that coats the back of your throat, but your eyes are fixed on the corner where the silver stag stands, motionless, its antlers dripping a slow,...

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