The Wistful Dinner
The hum in the wood was not a sound, but a pressure, a low vibration that Elias Thorne felt in his teeth before he heard it with his ears. It had started in the floorboards of the great hall, a dry, rasping tick that synchronized with the beating of his own heart. He stood before the grandfather clock, a monolith of mahogany and brass that had dominated the room for three generations, and...
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