The Faded Alibi
The fog that rolled in from the estuary every evening did not merely obscure the town of Harrowgate; it consumed it, erasing the sharp edges of the world until only the smell of wet wool and salt remained. For Thomas, a boy of twelve with hands stained permanently by the ink of his scribe’s trade, this fog was a boundary, a line he had been taught never to cross. But boundaries, like the pages...
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