The Pale Shadows
The silver pocket watch ticked against Elias Thorne’s palm with the steady, hollow rhythm of a second heartbeat. He stood in the center of the parlor, the coal fire dying to embers in the grate, and watched the condensation form on the glass of the windowpane. The year was 1912, and the estate of Blackwood Hall was bleeding money faster than it could bleed heat. Elias needed to sell the house...
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