The Distant Ghost
The iron gate was shut, and the silence behind it was not the silence of peace, but the heavy, suspended silence of a held breath. Captain Elias Thorne stood before the towering walls of Blackwood Asylum, his hands clasped behind his back, his knuckles white against the dark wool of his uniform. The air smelled of wet slate and decayed lavender. He had come to end a thing. He had come to cut...
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