The Faded Apartment
The corridor smelled of wet stone and ancient dust, a scent that seemed to cling to the very fabric of the air, heavy with the weight of centuries that had passed like slow, grinding tides. Elias Thorne stood before the massive oak doors of the Undercroft, his fingers trembling not from cold, but from a visceral, almost physical repulsion that radiated from the wood’s grain. He was a man of...
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