The Pale Shadows
The letter lay on the desk, its edges soft and white against the dark oak, the ink faded to a gray that matched the fog pressing against the windowpanes. Elias Thorne read it twice, the paper trembling slightly in his hands, not from cold but from the sudden, hollow ache in his chest that felt less like grief and more like a physical absence, a hole where his mother’s presence had been for...
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