The Obsidian Gospel

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2026-06-08 11:00:52 -

The castle of Blackwood did not sit upon the cliff; it seemed to grow from it, a jagged tooth of obsidian biting into the grey sky of the 18th century. Around it, the moors of Northern England stretched out like a frozen sea, haunted by a wind that sounded like the screaming of a thousand forgotten souls. Inside the castle, in a library where the candles burned with a sickly green light, lived...

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