The Distant Ghost
The dream began with the smell of ozone and wet stone. It was not a nightmare, but a memory of a place that did not exist in the waking world, a subterranean cathedral where the air tasted of iron and old blood. Arthur Vane stood at the center of a vast, circular room. The walls were lined with shelves that stretched into the darkness, holding not books, but glass vials. Each vial contained a...
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