The Wistful Saga
The wine in the crystal goblet did not tremble, nor did it catch the light of the hundreds of tallow candles burning in the chandeliers above us, but it glowed with a faint, unnatural blue luminescence that pulsed in time with the slow, heavy beat of my own heart. I stood at the head of the long oak table in the banquet hall of Lord Vane’s estate, the air thick with the scent of roasted boar,...
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