The Faded Paradox
The hall of Thorne Manor smelled of roasted boar and expensive spices, a sharp contrast to the cold, invisible pressure that had settled over the table like a shroud. Dr. Elias Thorne sat at the head of the oak table, his hands steady as he poured wine for the twelve guests who had gathered to witness the completion of his life’s work. He was thirty-five, a man whose mind had long since...
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