The Distant Nightmare
The rain had not stopped for three days, a relentless, grey sheet that turned the cobblestones of the King’s Road into a slick, black mirror reflecting the flickering gaslights and the weary, sodden faces of the men who walked them, and Sergeant Elias Thorne stood at the window of his small, damp office in the precinct, watching the water drip in steady, rhythmic lines down the glass, each drop...
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