The Cursed Covenant
The manor of High-Hallow sat upon a jagged cliff in the English countryside, a gothic monolith of grey stone and weeping ivy. I arrived in the autumn of 1895, carrying a briefcase of legal precedents and a heart full of professional arrogance. I was Julian, a solicitor hired to organize the chaotic archives of a man I had never met. The Master of High-Hallow communicated only through letters....
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