The Whispering Ruins of the South
The air in the bayou was a thick, humid soup that smelled of rotting jasmine and ancient secrets. Deep in the heart of the Louisiana wetlands lay the Blackwood Estate, a crumbling gothic mansion that seemed to be sinking slowly into the black water. In the overgrown gardens, where the willow trees wept over stagnant ponds, stood the Guardian—a moss-covered stone figure of a nameless deity, its...
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