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‘But what am I to do…’ murmurs Tessa, picking up a slender goose quill from the inkwell and sinking into deep thought. She has barely had time to cross out a single word when a storm breaks out above her head, and the single large window rattles open, letting a cold draught into the warm room. All the candles go out, and Elliott turns round, frozen in the grip of the darkness that has fallen. A tall figure in a black cloak stood right in the centre of the room

