The Distant Journey
The rain lashed against the leaded panes of the high-ceilinged library, a rhythmic, relentless drumming that seemed to vibrate in the very bones of the house, and Margaret stood at the center of the room, her hands trembling not from cold but from the sheer, terrifying weight of the silence that had finally fallen over the estate. She was not a woman of grand gestures, nor was she one who...
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