The Wistful Cipher
The wind does not howl here; it whispers, a low, continuous sibilance that seeps into the mortar of the old stone walls and settles in your bones like damp wool. You are standing in the center of the Great Hall of Blackwood Manor, a structure that has been slowly rotting from the inside out for the last century. It is a place of dust and silence, of shadows that seem to have weight, pooling in...
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