The Pale Shadows
"Sign here, Mr. Thorne. And here. Do try to keep your hand steady; the ink is still wet." The voice belonged to Director Halloway, a man whose suit cost more than Elias’s annual rent, and it hung in the air of the Grand Hall, heavy as the roasted pheasant that clogged the nostrils of the three hundred guests. Elias looked down. His hand was not trembling from fear, but from the cold that lived...
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