The Distant Summer

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2026-08-19 17:46:22 -

The key is cold in your hand, heavier than it has any right to be, and the iron gate of the estate groans like a living thing waking from a long, fevered sleep. You stand at the threshold of the manor, the dust of the road still clinging to your boots, and the air tastes of ozone and old stone. This is the house that swallowed your father whole, the place where the shadows do not merely fall...

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