The Distant Whispers

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2026-08-19 17:50:28 -

The rain had not stopped for three days, a ceaseless, grey weeping that turned the cobblestones of Oakhaven into slick, black mirrors reflecting the bruised sky above, and I stood in the doorway of the old stone hall, my hands trembling not from the cold, but from the terrible, heavy silence that had settled over the place like a shroud. The hall, once the beating heart of our family’s estate,...

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