The Pale Shadows
Thorne. The name hung in the air, sharp and accusatory, cutting through the clatter of silverware and the low hum of polite conversation. Elias Thorne stood at the center of the banquet hall, his knees a dull, grinding ache beneath the weight of his dress blues. The room was bright, the chandeliers casting a harsh, yellow glare that did nothing to hide the sweat beading at his temples. He...
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