The Wistful Crossroads
"Are you sure you want to sign for this, Elias? It’s not just a box of letters." Mr. Vance stood in the doorway of the Blackwood Estate’s central atrium, his hand resting on the leather-bound folio with the casual ease of a man who had already decided the outcome. Elias Thorne, forty-two years old and junior archivist at the Municipal Records Office, looked at the document in his own hand, the...
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