The Alchemist of Whitby Abbey
The fog rolled in off the North Sea like a shroud drawn slowly across the face of the world. It clung to the ruins of Whitby Abbey, perched upon the cliffs like a skeletal hand clutching at the grey sky. Here, in the shadow of the collapsed nave and the broken arches, three men had made their home for seven years. Alistair Peng stood at the edge of the cliff, his face turned toward the wind. He...
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