Sample-TheBloodOak-V03-202606101010.txt
The humidity of the Georgia coast was a physical weight, a damp shroud that smelled of salt and rotting magnolia. Silas lived in the shadow of the Blood Oak, a tree whose gnarled branches looked like frozen screams against the pale sky. The manor house was a skeletal remain of former glory, its corridors echoing with the whispers of ancestors who had traded their morality for land. Silas was a...
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