The Pale Letter
The fog in the valley of Oakhaven did not rise so much as it breathed, a heavy, grey exhalation that swallowed the spires of the ancient library and the cobblestones of the market square in a single, suffocating embrace, where the air tasted of damp rot and old parchment, and it was into this suffocating silence that Silas Vane, the Keeper of the Forbidden Stacks, stepped out of the shadows of...
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