The Wistful Silence
The light in the alpine study was the color of old bone, thin and brittle, falling in sharp diagonal shards across the oak desk where Elias Thorne sat hunched over his papers. He coughed, a dry, rattling sound that seemed to shake the very air in his chest, and paused, waiting for the pain to subside before he could continue his work. The manuscript lay open before him, its pages dense with a...
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