The Pale Banner
The rain had been falling for three days, a steady, grey curtain that turned the cobblestones of Ashworth Hall into a slick, black mirror. It was the kind of weather that settled into the bones, making the old stone walls feel less like shelter and more like a cage. Thomas Bradshaw stood by the window of his study, his hand resting on the cold glass, watching the droplets race down the pane. He...
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