The Pale Door
The heavy wool coat had hung in the closet of the Garrison House for thirty years, its wool felted into a hard, grey shield against the damp that seeped through the stone walls. It was a garment of immense weight, both in fiber and in history, belonging to Silas Vane, the man who had once been the town’s only line of defense against the things that whispered in the dark. Now, Silas was dead, or...
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