The Pale Protocol
The rain did not fall so much as it descended, a heavy, grey curtain drawn across the window of the small, rented room in the village of Harrowgate, obscuring the view of the moor that stretched out behind the stone cottage where Elias Thorne had lived, worked, and finally ceased to be of any use to the living world. He sat in the chair by the hearth, the fire long since banked into a dull,...
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