The Faded Alibi
The rain against the leaded glass was a persistent, rhythmic tapping, like a finger on a desk demanding attention from someone who had long since stopped listening. Elias Thorne sat in the narrow study of the university library, the air thick with the scent of damp wool and decaying paper. Before him lay the *Codex Aeterna*, a leather-bound volume so old the spine had cracked into a rictus of...
0 Комментарии 0 Поделились 1 Просмотры 0 предпросмотр