The Distant Journey
The rain had not stopped for three days, a persistent, grey curtain that blurred the boundary between the world outside and the rotting interior of Thorne Hall. Elias Thorne stood in the center of the library, his hands resting on the back of a mahogany chair, listening to the silence that was not silent. It was a low, rhythmic thrumming, like the heartbeat of a dying animal, vibrating through...
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