The Distant Promise
The air in the corridor of Blackwood Manor was thick enough to chew, a heavy, damp wool that clung to the skin and tasted of iron and old rot, and it was into this suffocating embrace that Elara Vane plunged, her bare feet slipping on the slick, moss-eaten flagstones as she clutched the gnarled branch of the ancient yew tree in her right hand, the wood splintering against her palm with a sound...
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