The Pale Tale
The crystal chandeliers in the Grand Hall of Blackwood Manor did not so much shine as they hummed, a low, vibrating frequency that seemed to settle into the marrow of Elias Thorne’s bones, a physical weight that pressed against his temples and clouded the sharp, cold air of the room. He stood at the head of the long mahogany table, the centerpiece of a banquet that felt less like a celebration...
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