The Pale Shadows
The letter sat on the mahogany desk like a small, white bone. It was the third one this week, and the fourth since the incident at the gallery. I stared at the embossed seal, the crimson wax pressing against the paper, and felt the familiar, cold stone of dread settle in the pit of my stomach. My hand, trembling slightly, reached for the envelope. The parchment was heavy, thick with the scent...
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