The Wistful Saga
The goose roasted in the center of the table, its skin lacquered and golden, while the air in the dining room grew thick with the scent of roasting fat and the sharp, metallic tang of Elara Vance’s anxiety. It was New Year’s Eve, 1893, and the house, once a beacon of prosperity in the textile district, now groaned under the weight of its own decay. Elara, thirty years old and a widow of two,...
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