The Distant Clue
The rain fell on the cobblestones of King’s Cross like a silent accusation. I watched it from the window of the guard room, my hand resting on the hilt of my sword. The steel was cold. It was always cold. My name is Silas Thorne, and for thirty years I have been the Shield of the Crown. Today, that shield cracked. My companion stood by the door. He was young. His name was Julian. He wore the...
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