The Wistful Cipher
The rain against the leaded glass of the observatory was not merely a sound but a rhythmic interrogation, a persistent drumming that sought to breach the fragile sanctity of the silence you had cultivated over the last three decades of your life as the Chief Archivist of the Whitmore Estate. You stood at the center of the circular room, your hands trembling not from the chill that permeated the...
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