The Pale Circus
"Did you think I would let you walk away so easily, Elias?" The voice was not in the room, yet it vibrated in the fillings of your teeth, a low hum that matched the creak of the floorboards beneath your boots. You stood in the hallway of Blackwood Manor, the air thick with the scent of damp wool and old paper. You were forty-two years old, and you had come here for a simple reason: the audit...
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