The Pale Door
The mist does not merely settle upon the cliffs of Gormore Hall; it invades them, a living, breathing entity that seeps into the pores of the ancient limestone and coils around the ankles of the scholars who dare to venture into the library’s deepest alcoves, where the air is thick with the scent of decaying paper and the metallic tang of old blood. You stand before the great oak desk, your...
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