The Faded Road
The ink in the book had changed again. Elias Thorne did not look up from the page, but his hand, hovering over the keyboard, stopped its rhythmic tapping. The silence in the study was absolute, broken only by the low, electrical hum of the radiator and the distant, muffled sound of wind pressing against the windowpanes of the manor. He adjusted his spectacles, the lenses thick with age, and...
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