The Pale Door
The wind did not merely blow against the windows of Vane Manor; it battered them, a rhythmic, percussive assault that shook the dust from the high rafters and rattled the empty frames in their sashes. You stand in the center of the long, decaying hallway, your hand resting on the cold iron of the banister, feeling the tremor of the structure pass through your bones and into your failing heart,...
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