The Distant Clue
The stone cracked. Not with a shout, but with a sigh, a dry exhalation of dust that settled in the hollow of Thomas’s hand. He stood in the courtyard, the morning light thin and gray, cutting through the mist that clung to the moor. In his grasp, the fragment of the archway lay cold and jagged. It was a piece of the old chapel’s spine, broken by the storm three nights prior. Thomas was a...
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