The rain had not stopped for three days. It fell on Westminster...

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2026-05-29 16:58:14 -

The rain had not stopped for three days. It fell on Westminster like a curse, turning the cobblestones to black mirrors that reflected nothing but the grey sky.

Edgar Thorne stood beneath the Arch of Triumph, his boots soaked through, his cloak heavy with water. In his hand, a bottle of the cheapest rye whiskey his father had ever drunk. He uncorked it with his teeth, the sound lost beneath the drumming rain. "Drink deep, old man," he whispered. "The world has changed since you last held a cup." He poured the whiskey onto the ground. It disappeared...

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