The Faded River
The house breathed with the heavy, humid sigh of a summer that had lasted too long, the air thick with the scent of damp wood and the metallic tang of old blood. Inside the grand hall of the Whitmore estate, a feast was laid out, though no one was there to eat it. The table, a slab of dark oak polished by generations of hands, stretched across the room like a long, silent tongue, covered in a...
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