The Distant Promise
The rain against the high, barred windows of Halloway Asylum sounded like static, a low, ceaseless hiss that Elias Thorne had long since learned to tune out. He sat in the night clerk’s booth, the leather chair creaking under his weight, his eyes fixed not on the ledger before him but on the small, translucent object resting on the desk. It was a shard of glass, no larger than a thumbnail,...
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