The Pale Echo
The dust in the Harrowgate Manor smells of wet chalk and old copper, a scent that coats the back of your throat and refuses to be washed away by the lukewarm water you draw from the rusted tap in the kitchen. You are Elias Thorne, thirty-two years old, and you are the junior archivist of a house that is slowly being eaten from the inside out, and your only goal is to finish the inventory of the...
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