The Wistful Letter
The iron gate of the Whitmore estate did not creak so much as it groaned, a deep, tectonic complaint that seemed to rise from the very bedrock of the hillside where the town of Oakhaven clung to the edge of the fog like barnacles on a rotting hull, and it was in this moment, as the rusted hinges shuddered under the weight of the wind that had been howling since the dawn, that Elara Vance...
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