The Last Heir's Descent

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2026-06-11 05:45:10 -

Arthur stood by the mahogany desk, his fingers trembling as he traced the gilded edges of the Grimoire of the Fallen. Outside, the London fog pressed against the windowpanes like a living shroud, gray and suffocating. The manor of Blackwood was no longer a home; it was a mausoleum of echoing halls and rotting velvet. He was the last. The line of Blackwood, once the architects of the city's...

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