The Distant Promise
The letter from the solicitor lay on the floorboards, a white rectangle stark against the rotting wood, and Elias Thorne picked it up with fingers that trembled not from cold but from the vibration of the object in his other hand. It was a jagged shard of bone, pale and yellowed, humming against his palm like a plucked wire, and the attic around him was silent save for the wet, rhythmic...
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