The Distant Nightmare
The brass key was heavy in Elias’s palm, cold enough to burn the skin of his fingers. He turned it twice in the lock of the cellar door, the sound sharp and final in the quiet of the house, before sliding the bolt home. He looked down at his hands; they were steady, though a fine tremor had begun to settle in the knuckles, a faint vibration like a plucked string that would not stop. In the...
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