The Ashworth Tragedy

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2026-04-26 18:01:58 -

The moors did not care about promises. They lay before the Ashworth estate like a frozen sea, grey and endless, broken only by the dark shapes of granite boulders and the occasional skeletal birch. Wind moved across them without sound, the way wind does when it has nothing to prove. Eleanor Ashworth stood at the library window and watched it move, her breath fogging the glass, her fingers...

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