The Faded Road
The rain did not fall so much as it descended, a heavy, grey curtain of sleet that turned the cobblestones of the Abbey square into a slick, treacherous mirror reflecting the jagged, lightning-split sky, and it was into this deluge that Sir Edward Ashworth plunged, his body a tangle of mud, blood, and the shredded remnants of his velvet doublet, the air around him thick with the coppery tang of...
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