The Moss-Grown Mirror
The air in the Bayou was not air; it was a warm, wet blanket that smelled of sulfur, rotting cypress, and the slow, patient decay of a thousand forgotten things. Silas lived in the ruins of the Blackwood Estate, a sprawling mansion that had once been the crown jewel of the South, now a skeletal remains of white columns and sagging porches, slowly being swallowed by the emerald hunger of the...
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