The Distant Ghost
The letter lay on the desk, the ink faded to a bruised purple. Elias Thorne picked it up, his fingers trembling not from cold, but from the arrhythmia that had begun to stutter in his chest three months prior. The paper was heavy, cream-colored, smelling of damp earth and old tobacco. It was from Arthur Vane, his former mentor, now a recluse in the crumbling estate of Oakhaven. The summons was...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima