The Wistful Cipher
The rain did not fall so much as it seeped, a pervasive dampness that settled into the limestone bones of the manor house and into the joints of those who dwelt within its shadowed corridors, a moisture that seemed to originate not from the sky but from the very stone itself, as if the building were slowly dissolving back into the earth from which it had been quarled centuries ago. Elara Vance...
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