The Wistful Throne
The rain had turned the gravel drive into a slurry of mud and broken stone, a path that seemed to stretch endlessly toward the gray mass of Vane House, a structure that had once been a landmark of academic prestige but now stood as a monument to institutional decay. Elias Thorne sat behind the wheel of his sedan, the engine ticking as it cooled, his hands resting on the leather steering wheel...
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