The Pale Shadows
The carriage wheels ground against the gravel of the estate, a sound like dry bones rattling in a tin, and you step down into the mist that clings to the ground of Blackwood Manor as if it were part of the soil itself. The air is thick, heavy with the scent of wet rot and old paper, and the silence of the place is not an absence of sound but a presence, a living thing that presses against your...
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