The Wistful Campus
In the dream, which you will later learn was not a dream but a fugue state induced by the cold and the hollow ache of your stomach, you are standing in the center of the great hall of the Whitmore estate, a place that does not exist in the county records yet feels as real to your bones as the rain drumming against the high, leaded windows. The air is thick with the scent of damp wool and old...
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