The Obsidian Inheritance
The storm broke over Yorkshire on a Tuesday in October, 1887. Edgar Thorne stood at the window of York Manor, watching rain lash against the leaded glass like a thousand tiny fists demanding entry. Inside, the gas lamps hissed softly, their flames trembling with each gust of wind that rattled the ancient windows. On the desk before him sat a black stone of his great-grandfather's— a monstrous...
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