The Distant Crown
The deed lay on the kitchen table, its edges curling slightly in the damp air, a document that promised the salvation of Elias Thorne’s marriage and the ruin of his soul if he failed to sign it. He stared at the ink, black and wet as a bruise, while the rain hammered against the single pane of glass in the window, a relentless percussion that matched the thudding in his temples. The house was...
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