The Distant Whispers
The cellar door slammed shut with a finality that shook the dust from the rafters. You are Elias Thorne, and your hands are steady, though your heart is a hammer against your ribs. You lock the iron bolt. You check the seals on the ventilation shafts. You descend the stairs, the stone steps cold under your boots, into the dark where your sister Clara waits. She is twenty-six, wasting away in a...
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