The Pale Verdict
The cellar beneath the Whitmore estate was a place of damp silence, where the air tasted of wet stone and the slow decay of things forgotten, and it was here, in the blue-grey gloom of the early morning, that Elara first heard the wrongness in the ticking of the silver pocket watch. It had been three years since Arthur died, three years since the fever took him and left her with a house that...
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