The Faded Bouquet
The brass seal in Elias Thorne’s hand weighed three pounds, a dense, cold block of metal that hummed against his palm with a frequency he could feel in his teeth, a low, visceral thrum that seemed to vibrate in the marrow of his bones. He stood at the edge of the crumbling Blackwood estate, the rain slicking his hair to his forehead, the town of Oakhaven silent behind him, a silence so thick...
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