The Faded Alibi
“You’re dead, Thomas. I can smell the rot on your breath.” The voice was not mine, yet it echoed in the vaulted stone of the chapel with such clarity that I flinched as if struck. I looked up from the ledger, the quill scratching a final, meaningless line into the parchment. The ink was black, but in the flickering candlelight, it looked like dried blood. I had been waiting for this moment for...
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