Beschrijving
Elias Thorne pushed open the heavy oak door of the archive, a sound like a dry throat trying to swallow. The air of the basement didn’t just meet him; it claimed him, thick with a humidity that tasted of copper and the slow, inevitable rot of paper. It was a physical weight, a damp wool blanket draped over the lungs, smelling of the silt that the Mississippi had been trying to reclaim for three centuries.