The Pale Path
The rain fell on the city like a grey curtain drawn too early. It did not wash the streets clean. It merely made the grime slicker, darker, a mirror for the tired faces of those who walked without purpose. Elias Vance walked. He was a man of questions, of cross-examinations, of the quiet, relentless hunt for the truth hidden in plain sight. Or so he told himself. He was also a man who had...
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