The Distant Whispers

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2026-08-22 13:13:55 -

Elias. The name hung in the drafty air of the estate’s main hall, spoken not by a voice but by the settling of the floorboards, a dry crack that sounded suspiciously like his own surname dragged across gravel. He stood by the window, his fingers white-knuckled around the handle of the iron key, watching the grey light of the Shifting Fens bleed into the yard below. He was forty-two years old,...

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