The Blood of the Innocent
The rain in Blackwood did not fall; it clung. It was a grey, suffocating shroud that draped itself over the soot-stained brickwork of the industrial town, turning the cobblestones into slick, obsidian mirrors. For Edmund and Julian, the rain was the only constant in a life defined by absence. Their father, a man of once-noble standing, had been erased from the town's memory twenty years ago....
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