The Bloodied Atlas
The Blackwood estate did not sit upon the land; it seemed to be consumed by it. The house was a skeletal ruin of grey stone and rotting ivy, perched on a cliff in the humid heart of Mississippi. Inside, the air was a thick soup of mildew and old secrets. Silas was the last of the Blackwoods, a man whose skin was as pale as the fungus growing in the cellar. Silas lived in a state of perpetual...
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