The Wistful Saga
The rain hits the slate roof of the orphanage with a sound like static, a constant, white noise that drowns out the world outside, and you are standing in the center of the hall with a lantern in your hand, your fingers white-knuckled around the brass handle, waiting for the thing that is not a ghost to show itself. You are a detective, or rather, you have been hired to be one, though the case...
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