The Pale Tale
The rain did not fall so much as it materialized, a thick, industrial mist that clung to the soot-stained brickwork of the Ashworth estate, turning the world into a monochrome smear of grey and rust. Inside the library, the air was still and heavy with the scent of decaying paper and the metallic tang of the coal stove that no longer held heat. Elias Thorne sat at the heavy oak desk, his hands...
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