The Faded Chronicle
The rain had not stopped in three days, a steady, gray curtain that blurred the edges of the world and turned the cobblestones of Millhaven into slick, dark mirrors reflecting nothing but the low, bruised sky, and you stood at the window of the police station, your back rigid, your hands clasped so tightly behind you that the knuckles had turned the color of old bone, watching the water drip...
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