Title: The Velvet Prison
The manor of Blackwood was not a house; it was a living organism, a parasite that fed on the sanity of those who dwelt within its walls. The architecture was a nightmare of Gothic excess—spiraling staircases that led nowhere, corridors that shifted when you weren't looking, and windows that looked out onto landscapes that didn't exist. My name is Eleanor. I have lived in Blackwood since I was a...
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