The Pale Shadows
The rain did not fall so much as it descended, a thick, gray curtain that blurred the edges of the village of Oakhaven, turning the cobblestones into slick, black mirrors that reflected the weak, amber glow of the streetlamps. Elias Thorne stood on the porch of the old mill, his coat soaked through to the skin, watching the water pool around the roots of the ancient willow that dominated the...
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