The Faded Alibi
The rain did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a grey, suffocating veil that turned the cobblestones of Highgate into slick, dark mirrors. Elias Thorne stood in the center of the square, his hands bound by iron shackles that bit into his wrists. The metal was cold, a bite that went deeper than skin, settling into the bone and humming with a low, dissonant frequency. He did not struggle....
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