The Pale Circus
The crystal chandelier above the long mahogany table cast a fractured, icy light across the faces of the guests, each prism a tiny, sharp accusation of the debt that hung over them all. Elias Thorne stood at the head of the table, his spine rigid, his hands clasped behind his back in a gesture of forced serenity that belied the tremor in his left knee. Lord Vane, a man whose wealth was built on...
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