The Stone Sarcophagus of Blackwood
I arrived at Blackwood Manor on a Tuesday, though the weather made it impossible to tell what day it had been for some time. The fog clung to the Yorkshire moors like a shroud, and the road from the station was little more than a muddy track swallowed by heather and despair. Horace Blackwood's letter had been terse, almost desperate in its urgency: come at once. Bring your knowledge of ancient...
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