• JD Feuerstein

I had received a rather odd invitation to attend an elegant party by the infamous Alistair Rhodes. The manor was elaborately decorated; the main hall in particular was adorned with a collection of eclectic antiquities that bordered the curious to the downright bizarre. The guests in attendance were an invariable who’s who of high society dressed in their finest attire, the same kind of people whose very presence makes you question if your attendance was a mistake.
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