The Wistful Crossroads
The ink on the final sheet of vellum is still wet when you see it move, a dark vein pulsing against the pale surface like a living thing. You are Elias Thorne, forty-two years old, and you have spent the last three weeks in the damp, grey town of Oakhaven, desperate to finish the survey of Blackwood Ridge before your contract with the provincial government expires. The opposing force is not the...
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