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He retracted out of the hole and began to search, looking for a candle or anything that might shed some light. Breaking the armrest of a pew, he wrapped his shirt around the end and eventually poured distilled spirits from an unlit red urn. The shirt burned slowly, as he swept across the painting of the lighthouse keeper again. In the corner, in the warm light, a name jumped out at him.
Will Tiresais.
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