The Pale Shadows
The fire started in the cellar, as the inspector later noted in his dry, typewritten report. It was a small thing. A spark from the coal chute, a puff of old newspaper, a whisper of flame that climbed the brickwork like a vine seeking sun. By the time the smoke curled under the door of the main kitchen, the house was already breathing its last. Elias stood in the hallway. He did not run....
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