The Wistful Letter
The carriage wheels groaned against the gravel, a sound like dry bones snapping under the weight of the earth, as they approached the crumbling silhouette of Blackwood Manor, which stood isolated on the cliff’s edge where the sea roared with a ceaseless, hungry fury. It was not the day of the year that mattered, for the seasons had long since ceased to turn with any recognizable rhythm in this...
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