The Golden Suspect
The rain fell like a judgment. It struck the mud of the courtyard. It soaked the stone. It entered the cracks. Silas stood in the center. He held the shard. It was glass. It was gold. It was broken. The crowd watched. They did not speak. Their silence was a weight. It pressed against his ribs. It pressed against his throat. He was a prisoner. His chains were gone. The lock was open. He had...
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