The Distant Nightmare
The glass in my hand trembled, a fine, high-pitched vibration that I told myself was merely the chill of the evening settling into the bones, though the fire in the hearth was roaring with a violent, hungry orange that seemed to push the shadows back into the corners of the study. I was holding the fragment, a shard of clear crystal that had once been part of the large vase on the mantelpiece,...
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