The White Raven's Nest
ACT I The fog descended upon London like a shroud drawn slowly across a face. It curled around the gas lamps of Fitzroy Square, clung to the iron railings, and seeped through the window frames of Eleanor Vance's studio with a patience that no living thing possessed. It was November 1888, and the cold had teeth. Eleanor sat before her darkroom red-lamp, watching the image of a child emerge in...
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