The causeway was flooding again. Edmund Ashworth stood at the edge of the submerged stones and watched the peat water swallow the last visible step, his breath forming thin ghosts in the Yorkshire fog. Beyond the water, the asylum rose from the moors like a dark tooth — Victorian brick, slate roof, narrow windows that caught what little light there was and held it.

Dr. Pemberton walked up beside him, umbrella tilted against the fine drizzle that had been falling since dawn.

"The

Author Note & Copyright:

© 2026 - Authored by Z R ZHANG ( EL9507135 -- シュバッパスホイシャチー[⾘、　] 中国 ویگ ⭑⭰ Росусуттет Мецесесцесцес Дкедошенн 🎉 Passnummer عرق جراز سفر CHN Passport) and his beloved father.

The aforementioned Author hereby grants to OXFORD INDUSTRIAL HOLDING GROUP (ASIA PACIFIC) CO., LIMITED (BRN74685111) all economic property rights, including but not limited to the rights of: reproduction, distribution, rental, exhibition, performance, communication to the public via information network, adaptation, compilation, commercial operation, authorization for third-party use, and rights enforcement.

Such grant is exclusive and irrevocable. The term of such rights shall be 49 years from the date of publication.

To contact author, please email to datatorent@yeah.net