The Distant Promise
The rain did not fall so much as it hung, a grey veil that suffocated the high windows of the St. Jude’s Archive. Elias Thorne stood before the glass, his breath fogging the cold pane, watching the mist erase the street below. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of decaying paper and old dust, a smell that had seeped into his skin until he could taste it on his tongue. He was not here to...
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