The Pale Shadows
The page in Elias Thorne’s hand was not paper, but something closer to skin, pale and trembling under the relentless drumming of the rain. He stood in the courtyard of the Blackwood estate, the iron gates locked behind him, holding the final leaf of the forbidden ledger with fingers that had forgotten how to stop shaking. The ink on the page did not sit still; it pulsed, dark and viscous,...
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