The Distant Clue
Professor Silas Vane did not so much walk into the Hall of Whispers as he was admitted by its architecture, a sensation like stepping into the cold breath of a cathedral that had forgotten how to hold a service. The air here tasted of ozone and old paper, a sharp, metallic tang that coated the back of his throat and settled in the lungs like fine dust. It was a place that existed in the...
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