The Golden Ritual
The house at the end of the Gable Road did not stand so much as it leaned, a skeletal finger pointing accusingly at the bruised, perpetual twilight of the Scottish moors. I had come to Harrowgate not to find a ghost, but to find a pattern, a logical anomaly in the architecture of the Whitmore estate that had baffled three previous investigators and driven the local constabulary to a state of...
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