The Pale Banner
The rain had been falling since before dawn, a thin, persistent sheet that turned the cobblestones of Oakhaven into a dark, shimmering mirror. Elias Thorne stood at the window of his small, rented room above the bakery, watching the street below. He was a man of forty years, slight and gray, with the kind of face that seemed to dissolve into the background whenever he was not being scrutinized....
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