The Pale Garden
The bell tolled not with sound but with a heavy, wet silence that settled over the cobblestones of the village like a shroud, and Dr. Alistair Thorne stood at the center of the square, his hands trembling not from cold but from the sudden, terrifying realization that he was no longer the observer of this world but the subject of its ancient, hungry appetite. He had come here, to this forgotten...
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