The Distant Journey

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2026-08-18 01:33:07 -

The ink bled. It started as a single drop. Black. Heavy. It fell from the ceiling onto the white sheet of paper on the desk. Thomas watched it. He did not flinch. He did not wipe it away. He let it sit there. A perfect circle of void. The house was silent. The old manor had stood for a century. It stood now. The air was thick. Dust motes danced in the pale light of the corridor. Thomas moved...

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