The Distant Ghost
The fire in the hearth of the Blackwood manor did not burn so much as it remembered burning, a pale, skeletal thing that cast long, trembling shadows across the tapestries which depicted kings who had long since turned to dust, and in the center of the great hall, where the air hung thick with the scent of roasted lamb, stale ale, and the damp wool of a hundred coats, Elias Thorne sat with his...
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