The Golden Suspect
The rain did not fall so much as it persisted, a gray and endless curtain that turned the cobblestones of the old castle courtyard into a mirror of the bruised sky above. In the highest tower, where the wind whistled through cracks in the mortar like a dying breath, Elara sat in the dark, her hands folded in her lap, watching the candlelight tremble against the damp stone. She was a woman who...
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