The Faded Bouquet

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2026-08-24 05:12:08 -

The Faded Bouquet

The brass key was cold, heavier than its size suggested, and Elias Thorne held it between his thumb and forefinger as if it were a live coal, the metal biting into the calluses of his hand. The fog did not roll in at Blackwood Station; it sat, thick and grey, pressing against the high, barred windows of the Victorian manor like a damp wool blanket, muffling the world outside into a dull, grey...

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