The Distant Joke
The rain had not ceased for seven days, a grey and relentless curtain that turned the moors into a soup of mud and sorrow, and within this deluge, Silas Thorne walked with the heavy, deliberate gait of a man whose bones were made of the same wet clay as the earth he traversed. He was a seeker of truths that most men preferred to leave buried, a detective of the unseen, whose reputation was...
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