The Distant Clue
The banquet hall of the Ashworth estate, a sprawling Gothic cathedral of stone and shadow, hums with a low, vibrating frequency that you feel not in your ears but in the marrow of your femur, a subsonic thrum that suggests the walls themselves are breathing, a rhythmic expansion and contraction that mirrors the desperate, arrhythmic pounding of your own heart, which is currently serving as the...
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