The Distant Clue
The rain did not fall so much as it was erased, the sky over the grey moors dissolving into a bruised and violet nothingness that pressed down upon the stone walls of the old observatory with a weight that felt less like weather and more like judgment. Inside, the air was thick with the smell of wet wool and cold iron, a scent that had long since become indistinguishable from the smell of fear...
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