The Pale Protocol
The letter was sealed with black wax. It sat on the table in the village square. Rain drummed against the cobblestones. The air tasted of iron and rot. "Who left this?" asked Thomas. He did not look at the seal. He looked at the mud. "Everyone," said the Mayor. His voice was dry. "And no one." Thomas picked up the envelope. It was cold. It burned his fingers. He broke the seal. The paper inside...
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