The Distant Nightmare

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2026-08-25 00:55:21 -

Thorne. The word hit the back of your skull like a hammer strike, sharp and cold. You looked up from the basin, water dripping from your fingers, and saw Lord Blackwood standing in the doorway of the Duke’s antechamber. His face was pale, the skin drawn tight over his cheekbones, and he was holding a glass vial of laudanum as if it were a loaded pistol. You wiped your hands on your apron. The...

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