The Faded Frequency
The rain hit the roof like static. It was a sound I knew well. I had spent twenty years listening to it. Not the rain itself, but the signal beneath. The frequency. I sat by the fire in the great hall of Blackwood Manor. The walls were stone, cold and unyielding. They had stood for four hundred years. They had witnessed many things. I was merely the latest custodian. The latest keeper of the...
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