The Labyrinth of Sighs
The castle of Blackwood sat upon a jagged cliff in the Scottish Highlands, a grey monolith perpetually besieged by the mist. Inside, the corridors shifted like thoughts, and the wind howled through the rafters like a choir of the damned. Julian was the master of Blackwood, a writer who believed that the walls of his home were porous, allowing the grief of his ancestors to leak into the present....
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