The-Oakhaven-Inheritance-202606121806
The smell hit me the moment I stepped through the front door of Oakhaven — sweet, fungal, slightly metallic. It was the smell of wet earth after a summer storm, layered with something older and more difficult to name, like the scent that rises from a cellar where someone has been storing something that should not be stored. I knew the smell. I had encountered it before, during visits to...
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