The Distant Whispers
The iron gates of the Blackwood Penitentiary did not clang so much as they sighed, a low, metallic exhalation that seemed to vibrate through the soles of Elias Thorne’s boots and up into the marrow of his bones, a sound that was less a warning than a finality, a declaration that the world beyond the perimeter wall had ceased to exist for him, that he was now a creature of stone and rust and the...
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