The Distant Clue
The morning light entered the Hall of Justice not as a gift but as a sterile, clinical interrogation, pouring through the high, arched windows in shafts of pale gold that dusted the marble floors with a fine, drifting powder of decay, illuminating the intricate, gilded filigree of the chandeliers which hung suspended in the air like frozen constellations of brass and glass, casting long,...
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