The Distant Ghost
Thorne. Thorne, you old fool, come here. The voice was not in the room, nor was it in the walls, yet it vibrated against the inside of my skull with the distinct, grinding weight of a millstone turning in water, a sound that had no source but possessed a terrible, physical presence that made the air in the bedchamber feel thick as wet wool. I looked at Mara, who lay still as a stone in the...
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