The Wistful Witness

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2026-08-23 18:53:26 -

Thorne. The word hung in the cold air of the study, sharp and singular, spoken by a voice that had long since ceased to exist. Elias did not turn. He stood with his back to the door, his hands resting on the edge of the mahogany desk, feeling the grain beneath his palms. It was November, and the house was freezing, the kind of damp cold that settled into the joints and refused to leave no...

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