The Pale Banner
The sky above Harrowgate turned a sickly violet before the rain started. It was not a natural color. I watched it from the porch of the station house, my hand resting on the cold iron of the doorframe. The town below lay in a hush that was not peace, but the held breath of a prey animal. I am a constable. My name is Elias Thorne. I have served here for twenty years. I believed in the law. I...
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