The Wistful Crossroads
The cart wheels rattled over the gravel, a sound like dry bones breaking in the cold November air. Elias Thorne stepped down, his boots sinking into the mud that coated the estate’s drive. He was forty years old, a geologist by trade, and he carried a leather satchel heavy with surveying instruments and a lighter, more dangerous weight in his chest: the knowledge that his brother Julian was...
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