The Faded Alibi
The heavy iron door of the watchtower groaned as it swung shut, sealing the last sliver of autumn light out of the corridor, and leaving Captain Elias Thorne in a darkness that was not quite black but a deep, bruised purple, the color of a contusion forming under the skin. He stood there, his hand still resting on the cold brass of the lock, feeling the vibration of the mechanism settle into...
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