Midnight had long settled over the Hudson Highlands, drowning Blackwood Manor in a shroud of black frost and howling pine winds. The heavy mahogany floorboards of the private study creaked under the weight of an unspoken, suffocating tension. The private study of Blackwood Manor smelled of aged tobacco, fine morocco leather bindings, and polished brass. Colossal oak bookshelves rose twenty feet toward a beamed ceiling, housing thousands of volumes on…
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