The Pale Verdict
The sky over Harrow’s Gap did not simply darken; it collapsed. It was a bruise the color of old iron, pressing down upon the town with a weight that seemed to suck the air from the lungs of every living thing within its borders. Elias Thorne stood in the center of the town square, his hands clasped behind his back, his knuckles white not from tension but from the effort of keeping them still....
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