The Distant Promise
The tuning fork was cracked down the center of the tines, a hairline fracture Elias Thorne had noticed three days ago but refused to acknowledge. "Is he coming?" Julian Blackwood asked, his voice thin and sharp as a wire cut through the damp air of the parlor. "He is here," Elias said. His voice came out as a rasp, a dry scrape of sandpaper against wood. He swallowed, forcing air into lungs...
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