The Distant Ghost
The ink in my father’s final journal had dried into a rust-colored crust that flaked beneath my fingertips, and I held the page up to the candlelight with a tremor that I refused to acknowledge as fear. I am Elias Thorne, forty-two years of age, the sole keeper of the archives in this decaying estate, and I had come here to decipher the last testament of the man who raised me, a task that had...
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