The Pale Meridian
The carriage wheels ground against the gravel of Blackwood Manor’s drive, a sound like teeth chattering in the frost, as Elara Vance stepped down into the mud with the heavy, leather-bound ledger of her father’s debts clutched to her chest. She was thirty-two, a woman who had spent the last decade managing the quiet, efficient machinery of her own life, yet here she stood before the rotting...
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