The Velvet Cage
The Blackwood Manor did not just house its inhabitants; it consumed them. It was a place of oppressive symmetries and suffocating silence, where the corridors seemed to stretch and contract like the lungs of a dying beast. The air was heavy with the scent of beeswax and old dust, a smell that suggested things were being preserved not for their value, but to prevent them from rotting. Lydia...
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