The Faded Paradox
The rain had been falling for three days, a relentless, gray curtain that blurred the edges of the manor house and turned the gravel drive into a muddy slurry. Elias Thorne stood in the center of the library, holding a book with the fragility of a newborn bird. He was a man of forty years, with hair that had begun to silver at the temples and eyes that held the tired, heavy look of one who had...
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