The Cage of Whispers
Yorkshire, 1888 The fog clung to the stone walls of Whispering Hall like a living thing, seeping through the cracks in the window frames and settling into the tapestries that had not been drawn in decades. Arthur Blackwood stood at the top of the grand staircase, his hand resting on the banister that his ancestors had gripped before him for three hundred years, and he felt the weight of all...
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