The Faded Frontier

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 12:01:48 -

The rain had stopped, but the air in the Grand Hall of the Whitmore Estate still smelled of wet wool and old stone. It was a scent that clung to the skin, a ghost of the storm that had battered the industrial city of Ashworth for three days. Thomas Bradshaw stood in the corner of the room, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. He was a man of small stature and quiet habits, a clockmaker...

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