The Pale Protocol
The letter sat on the table. It was thick. It smelled of damp earth and old blood. Mara picked it up. Her hands shook. The ink was black. It was not ink. It was charcoal. And something else. Something wet. She opened it. The words were simple. *Come to the house. Bring the key. Do not look in the mirror. Do not speak to the shadows. Come alone.* Mara knew who it was from. She knew who it was...
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