The Distant Crown
The chandelier above Clara’s head was a constellation of cut crystal, refracting the warm, amber light of the gala into a thousand dizzying points that danced across the polished mahogany of the tables. She stood near the edge of the ballroom, a junior archivist in a dress she had bought secondhand, her eyes fixed not on the donors or the wine, but on the display case in the corner. Inside sat...
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