The Wistful Voyage
The ink on the survey map was still wet when Elias Thorne first noticed the tear running down the eastern boundary, a jagged scar in the paper that mirrored the rot in the manor’s foundation. He stood in the center of the library, the air thick with the smell of damp plaster and old varnish, while his brother Julian leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching him with the cold...
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