The Pale Verdict
The fog did not merely sit upon the streets of Ashworth; it breathed against them, a wet, heavy exhalation that turned the gas lamps into hazy, trembling orbs of amber and rust. Elias Thorne walked through this suffocating mist with the deliberate, measured pace of a man who had long since ceased to run, his coat collar turned up against the damp chill that seeped into the marrow of his bones....
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