The Distant Ghost
The letter lies on the flagstones of the foyer, its seal broken, the ink still wet with the humidity of the corridor. You, Elias Thorne, captain of the Royal Constabulary, stand in the drafty silence of Blackwood Manor, your hand resting on the hilt of your ceremonial sword, though you have not drawn it in twenty years. The paper is from Silas, your cousin, the magistrate who has spent the last...
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