The Pale Door
The rain did not fall so much as it was hurled against the windowpanes of the library, a relentless, gray sheet of water that blurred the world outside into a smearing of mud and dying leaves, while inside, the air hung thick with the scent of damp wool, old paper, and the metallic tang of fear that had settled into the floorboards since the first artillery shells had thudded, distant yet...
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