The Golden Suspect
The iron gate of the Blackwood estate groaned, a sound like a man breaking under the weight of his own years, as Elias Thorne forced his way through the rusted bars. He did not look back. Behind him, the fog of the village clung to the cobblestones, thick and suffocating, smelling of wet wool and old ash. Ahead, the garden lay in ruin. For decades, this place had been his sanctuary, a fortress...
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