The Wistful Dinner
The summons came not as a shout, but as a shift in the ambient light, a dimming of the gold script that hung in the air like suspended rain. Elias Thorne looked up from his plate, the tines of his fork still resting against the crystal rim, and saw Lord Vane waiting by the pillar. The banquet hall of Aethelgard was a marvel of structural engineering, a city of stone and glass floating above the...
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