The Faded Alibi
The trial of Elara Vance began not in a courtroom, but in the suffocating, dust-choked air of the undercroft beneath the magistrate’s manor, where the stone walls seemed to breathe a heavy, damp exhalation that smelled of old rot and unwashed wool, and where Elara stood with her hands bound behind her back, the rough hemp biting into her wrists, watching the singular, fractured reflection of...
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