The Pale Mist
The rain had been falling for three days, a gray, persistent sheet that turned the streets of the old Victorian manor into a slick, dark mirror of the sky above, and Elias stood in the center of the grand foyer, his hands trembling so violently that he could not steady the heavy iron key in his grip, the metal cold and biting against his skin as he tried to turn it in the lock of the room that...
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