The Distant Crown
The rain fell on the cobblestones of Oakhaven, a fine, persistent mist that turned the ancient stones slick and dark. It was a Tuesday. Or perhaps a Thursday. Time had grown slippery in the city, stretching and snapping like wet rubber. Elias Thorne stood at the window of his study, watching the water drip from the eaves. He was a detective, or had been. The title felt heavy now, a stone in his...
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