The Candle at Blackwood
The fog rolled off the Atlantic and swallowed the cliffs of Cornwall whole. Arthur Whitmore stood at the gate of Blackwood Manor and watched it consume the iron bars, the overgrown garden, and the tower that rose from the estate like a broken finger pointing at a sky the colour of wet slate. He had been summoned by the Royal Society with an urgency he did not understand. Three scientists in the...
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