The Distant Ghost
The rain did not fall so much as it settled, a fine, gray mist that clung to the brick facades of the city and seeped into the bones of the buildings, a pervasive dampness that seemed to breathe with a life of its own. In the narrow shop on the corner of Fifth and Main, where the air was always thick with the scent of old wood and varnish, Elias Thorne stood before a large, dark oak door that...
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