The Distant Affair
In the damp, moss-eaten silence of the manor’s lower study, where the air hung heavy with the scent of rotting oak and ancient dust, Elias Thorne sat hunched over a ledger of accounts that had not been updated in three decades, his fingers tracing the faded ink of names long dead while the only light came from a single tallow candle that sputtered and weared against the encroaching dark. He was...
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