The Faded Guest
The rain fell upon the slate roof of the manor with a rhythmic, ceaseless persistence that sounded less like weather and more like the grinding of bones against stone, a sound that had permeated the very mortar of the walls until I could feel it vibrating in the marrow of my own limbs as I sat in the high-backed chair by the cold hearth, staring at the heavy oak table where a single sheet of...
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