The Wistful Voyage
The iron gate had not been opened in three years, yet it did not rust, a fact that Edmund Ashworth found deeply unsettling as he pressed his thumb against the cold metal, feeling the vibration of the stone beneath his feet, a vibration that seemed to emanate from the very heart of the earth rather than from the machinery of the world. He stood in the courtyard of the old family estate, the air...
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