The Faded Shield
The iron gate shrieked against the gravel, a sound like a nail dragged slowly across a chalkboard, and then it was silent, a silence so thick and heavy it seemed to press against the eardrums of anyone who heard it, standing in the courtyard of the old Blackwood estate where the fog lay low and white as a burial shroud. Margaret Ashworth stood at the threshold of the front door, her hand...
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