The Faded River
The chandelier above the grand foyer of Blackwood Manor swayed with a faint, rhythmic creak that seemed to mimic the pulse of Elias Thorne’s own heart, a mechanical rhythm that felt less like engineering and more like a biological warning as he surveyed the sea of relatives below. He was forty-two, a structural engineer by trade and a ghost by temperament, standing rigid in his charcoal suit...
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