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Guardians of the Graveyard

At Twilight, the air grows heavy with discomfort and trepidation; a blanket to smother all those that break curfew laws. I meandered...

The Chamber

The woman sat on a chair, her black heels resting on the workbench in front of her, whistling a cold and sombre tune. Her whistling woke...

Other Tales: Blog2

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